Chronicles of the Final Days of Zeal
by Lancetheyoung
Summary: A look at the end of the Magical Kingdom. Begins with the arrival of the Prophet and ends with Lavos's awakening. Chapter eight is now up. All reviews are welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Chronicles of Zeal's Final Days

By Lance

Peace. I am Lance. I wanted to say hello, and to thank you for reading my newest fanfic. Before you begin, let me say a few things.

First of all, I want to point out that there are basically no original characters in this story. For some reason I just can't read Fan Fictions that use original characters. It immediately turns me off to whatever story's being told. ...Actually, new villains don't really bother me, as often when an original villain is introduced he's needed for the story to go on. Whenever I see an original protagonist though, I go for the back button like _THAT_... Hence, any new characters in this Fanfiction play little part other then moving the plot along. They don't have any major part in the script save for giving the main characters and the reader information, and maybe helping with the atmosphere.

...I don't really know why I felt the need to point that out, I just did...

Also, I write the dialouge of the story in script form. Yes, script form. Maybe I'm getting the wrong idea about this, but it seems the longer, more detailed stories are always done in narrative. Meanwhile the stupider, sillier fanfics are told in script. Now I know a few people might not read this story (Like my bother, to a certain extent) simply because of this, but please at least give the story a chance. The dialouge is in script-form, yes, but it is fairly descriptive. I think part of the reason for the dialouge, is my love of movies.

...Yes, I am lazy, and I don't wanna have to type "She said" or something similar after every piece of dialouge, but I think my movie-loving nature has something to do with it too. I just love the film industry so much. I would even say it's my favorite form of story-telling. These all started as scripts, and I think that you should be able to read this without having to be hoity-toity over the way the dialouge is written.

...If you're not the type of arrogant asshole who would do that, I apologize for my rudeness.

Then again, isturning away from the story simply because of the dialouge's written form really that different from me turning away because the story features a new character? I need to take a look at myself...

And also in retrospect, script-form doesn't make a story like a film. It's said that a movie is written three times- once on paper in the script, again during filming where things may change, and again in editing. So I guess I'll just have to chalk the form of the script up to my laziness.  
I'm getting off topic here. Please read the story and tell me what you think. Reviews are very appriciated.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The scene is just outside the city of Kajar. The sun shines upon the just-tall-enough grass. Wildflowers are scattered here and there, bees buzzing to each one happily. The dirt pathes that went from skyway-to-skyway were soft and somehow seemed simple and easy to walk over, dispite their length. The waters of the river shone brightly in the sun, as they flowed from their source in the palace, down the continent, and over the edge into the bitter, frozen sea below. It was great for swimming, as the water was the pinnicle of purity, and just cool enough to not be cold to the diver. Yes, it was a perfect day in Zeal.

Of course, in Zeal, every day is perfect.

We find Schala sitting down in the grass underneath a weeping willow. She had a book in her lap, and was loosely writing something in it. There were some of the Kajar scientists by the river, soaking their feet. She could barely hear their mutterings about Belthasar and dreamstone, when a shadow fell over her. Schala looked up to see somebody standing over her.

Melleck: Hey, Schala.

Schala: Oh, uh... Hey, Melleck.

Melleck sits down next to the princess. She's about her age with short white hair. Her red Zeal dress is typical for the people in the palace.

Melleck: I just heard the good news.

Schala: _(Still writing)_ What good news?

Melleck: The news about tomarrow! Tomarrow you get to sit in on your first real Royal Council Meeting!

Schala puts the book aside and looks at her friend.

Schala: I'm just going to be a minor council member. I won't really have that much power for a few months.

Melleck: Don't you get it, Schala? This is the beginning!

Melleck suddenly gets an dreamy, inspired look in her eyes.

Melleck: Tomarrow you'll leave behind all the administrative classes you had throughout your youth! You move forward, taking your place as you uphold the beauty of our society! And as time passes, you make more and more of a difference, until you're leading the council along behind you! As Queen Schala, you'll take our country to places never before dreamed of!

Schala: _(slightly embarressed) _Um... Melleck, I'm not gonna be Queen. Janus is the heir. He'll be taking the throne once he's old enough...

Melleck: _(disinterested) _What? ...Oh, right, Janus... _(Normally) _But this is still a big move up for you! Aren't you excited?

Schala: I'm kinda nervous actually.

Melleck: C'mon! I read somewhere that you're going to be the youngest person ever on the council.

Schala: Yeah, I know. I graduated from my magical classes so early, Mother was able to put me into administrative classes sooner then anybody else...

Melleck: Yeah... But c'mon! Somebody like you is just what this country needs. Not another snooty white-haired guy with spectacles and pressed robes.

Schala opened her mouth to answer when there was a splash and several shocked grasps from the scientists. Both girls turned to see one of the researchers in the river, being swept down toward the horizon.

Schala: Oh, god!

Melleck: Why'd he get so far into the center?

Schala and Melleck both get up and run toward the river. The scientists were running alongside the riverbed as well.

Scientist Pickering: If we don't get to him fast enough, he'll fall off the continent...

Scientist Dolittle: We'renever gonna catch him! The current's moving too fast...

The poor victim was being blown through the river, turned like a twig, unable to regain his sense of balance. Suddenly, something strange happened.

Something large and dark zoomed across the surface of the river. It reached the stream's center just as the victim was passing under it. In one swift, seamless move a leather-gloved hand flew out of the inky mass and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. The strange Samaritan continued, without stopping, and then dropped him onto the riverbank.

The two girls and the small group of workers blinked, as they continued to run downstream. As they approached the newly-saved researcher, who was now coughing and sputtering on the ground, they could see a man standing nearby. He was very tall, looking to be well over six feet, and wearing a dark blue cloak that obscured practically his entire body from veiw. Even his face was mostly hidden, as the hood fell just past his nose. While it covered alot of his body, the cloak was also very loose and billowing. Once they came near the two, the scientists bent down toward their comrade.

Scientist Pickering: Higgins, are you alright?

Scientist Higgins: _(Cough) _You... you saved me...

The Prophet: Yes.

Schala and Melleck approached, slightly behind the group of researchers.

Schala: Are you okay?

Scientist Higgins: I think I'll be fine...

The Prophet glances at the two newcomers and then begins to walk away.

Schala: Hey, wait!

He stops, and turns as the two girls run up to him.

Schala: That was really increadible.

Melleck: Yeah. How'd you even seem him with that hood covering your eyes?

The Prophet: Um... thank you...

The group of scientists walk up as well, the soaked Higgins among them.

Scientist Higgins: You really saved my life, sir...

The Prophet: _(distracted)_ It... uh... it was nothing...

The Prophet tried to turn and walk off when Higgins grabbed his arm.

Scientist Higgins: Wait a minute! I want to thank you. Maybe you'd like to come over for dinner tonight.

The Prophet: _(distracted) _Thanks for the offer, but I've got somewhere I need to be...

Scientist Higgins: Oh um... Okay...

The Prophet walks off toward the city.

Schala: Come to think about it, I've got to go, too.

Melleck: Really? I thought Janus was still in class.

Schala: He is, but I mother's holding a party tonight, and I need to get ready...

Schala moves over to the Willow to get her book...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Inside her walk-in closet, Schala was adjusting her formal dress. It was a slightly tight dress with shoulder straps thatclung to her body. Once done she was done, she slipped into a rather painful pair of high-heels and walked out into her room. She moved over to the mirror and looked at herself.

The only good thing about high-heels was that they made her look like she was of normal height. She'd always been slightly short and petite for her age. Still, she couldn't stand wearing high-heels for any amount of time. Her mother, meanwhile, almost never seemed to take hers off.

There was a knock at the door, breaking her concentration.

Schala: It's open.

The door opens a crack and Janus pokes his head in.

Janus: Schala?

Schala: Hi, Janus.

Janus walks in slowly, Alfador at his heels. He closes the door behind him.

Janus: You look nice...

Schala: Thanks, Janus. Mother decided to throw a party tonight and she told me to attend.

Janus walks over and sits on Schala's bed as she puts on her earrings in the mirror.

Janus: Why's there a gonna be a party?

Schala: She didn't say. She only annouced it yesterday out of the blue. She said she had big news.

Janus: Um...

Schala turns to look at her brother.

Janus: I don't have to come, do I?

Schala smiles, slightly amused.

Schala: No, this'll go on a while after you go to bed.

Janus sighes, relieved. Schala turns back to the mirror.

Schala: So how were your classes?

Janus: _(Slightly Depressed) _...No different...

Schala pauses for a minute and then begins to put her gloves on.

Schala: Don't worry about it. I'm sure things will change.

Janus: _(Slightly depressed)_ Uh-huh... Gaspar said he wanted to talk to you.

Schala: I'll probably see him at the party.

Janus: Okay...

Schala finishes with her gloves and turns to her brother.

Schala: Janus, you're probably gonna be asleep by the time I come back, so I'll just say goodnight now.

Schala bends down and kisses Janus's forehead.

Schala: See you tomarrow, Janus.

Janus: You too, Schala...

She heads toward the door.

Schala: Don't stay up too late just because I'm not here.

She walks out. Janus looks down at Alfador.

Janus: ... Do you think... things will change?

Alfador mews.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dalton looked himself over in the mirror. Frowning he grabbed a comb and straightened his hair back. Once his ponytail was secure, he gave it aspraying for good measure.

This party was obviously something special. When the Queen threw a party, it was usually an annual thing, like her Christmas balls, or her Peace-Day Banquets. The birthday parties for her andthe Princess alwayswere noted as monumental occasions. If the celebrations weren't annual, they were done because of a monumental event that'd recently occured. A party was already being planned for the completion of the Mammoth Machine, which was monthes away.

However, this was something else. Two nights ago, her Highness rushed out of the master bedroom atthree in the morning, still in her nightgown. The hands reported her to be estatic, somehow surging with energy. She ordered for those servants still awake to prepare a ball, to take place as soon as possible.

Obviously, whatever happened, this was going to be something special. The Queen always had a reserved pride about her, but the servants described her as being as giddy as a schoolgirl. For the next few days, when she might have been making sure the celebration would go off without a hitch, she was actually nowhere to be found. In between her council meetings and meals, she stayed locked alone in her room, never letting in anybody else and yelling at visitors. Dalton hadn't even been able to show her his new Blackbird plans.

Smiling, he removed his everyday eyepatch and replaced it with his formal one. The smooth leather of this one had Rubies embroidered around the band. An arrangement of diamonds and rubies was at the center, forming the pattern of a huge red eye. Looking at himself in the mirror he grinned. He was so glad he stopped wearing that glass eye. The way it pointed in any direction made him look brain damaged.

He'd show those plans to her tonight, though. Once at the party, he'd get her alone and grab her approval. He walked over and picked up the blueprints. He rolled them into their carrying-tube and walked out with them safely inhand.

As he went down the hallway to the Main Chamber, he began to ponder the brownie points he'd get once the Blackbird was upgraded. It would go from being the mere pointless "Technological Marvel" that Belthasar built it as, to a mobile fortress. Upon it would be war rooms, holding cells, weapon-development rooms, and a new little invention he called a torrent, which when mounted on the outside of the ship, would fire large amounts of magical spells at enemies.

While he was replaying the specifics of each invention, he failed to notice that somebody was also walking down the hall in the opposite direction. He was the same man seen by Schala and Melleck earlier, slowly walking down the corridor with his head bowed in thought. Neither man noticed the other as theydrew closer. With neither paying attention to where he was going, they bumped shoulders in passing. Dalton's plans fell out of his hands and onto the floor.

Dalton: Watch where you're going you blind arse!

The Prophet gives Dalton a minor glance, but then turns and continues on his way.

Dalton: Did you hear me? Or are you deaf, too?

The Prophet walks on. Dalton snorts in anger and picks up his plans.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The party was already well underway. The high-society members of Zeal, the elites of the entire world, had come in their best robes and jewelry to converse and see what the Queen had in store for them. The robes were all well-pressed and unwrinkled, and the jewelry shone like the stars. The sound of conversation filled the room, as did the rather strong smell of women's perfume.

Schala was currently standing away from all that, toward the wall where she new she wouldn't suffocate.

Gaspar: Schala!

She turned. The Red-Robed Guru of Time was walking toward her.

Schala: Oh, hi Gaspar... I was hoping I might see you.

Gaspar: Heh... The company here does leave something to be desired, doesn't it?

Schala: Janus said you wanted to talk to me.

Gaspar: Hm? Oh, yes... Um...

Gaspar pauses and begins to adjust his hat.

Gaspar: About Janus... Well, the other Gurus and I have been tutoring him for about three years now, and... He's not really... progressing as much as we'd hoped.

Schala: I know, but it's only a matter of time before his magic develops.

Gaspar: That's just it, you see...

The Guru begins to scratch the back of his head, looking uncomfortable.

Gaspar: People are starting to... talk about your brother...

Melchoir: I say, Schala, Gaspar!

Gaspar turns to see his comrade limping up to them, cane in hand.

Melchoir: Good to see you two. I was starting to wonder if I was going to get to see anyone I liked today.

As he neared them, he looked around.

Melchoir: Hey, where's your mother? Won't she be making an appearance?

Schala: I imagine so. She seemed so interested in this party starting.

Gaspar: I haven't seen much of her in the past few days, though.

Schala: Neither have I. I tried to talk to her yesterday at dinner about the time she was spending in her chambers, but she said she would explain it all here.

Melchoir: That's weird...

Melchoir turns and sees another figure walking up. This one in blue-and-white robes with a very aged face and pale skin. A round blue creature is trotting after him. Melchoir went into mock-horror.

Melchoir: _(Sarcastically) _Good god! It's him!

Gaspar: _(Also sarcastically) _B-Belthasar! But how? Where have you been all this time?

Melchoir: _(Sarcastically) _Someone said you were dead!

Belthasar reaches the others, looking irritated. The Nu is close behind him.

Belthasar: _(Annoyed) _Ah, ha-ha-ha. You people shouldn't mock simple work ethic.

Melchoir: We don't mock your work ethic. We mock the fact that you never leave your laboratory for more then two seconds at a time.

Schala giggles.

Belthasar: You're lucky I showed up at all. One of my workers nearly drowned today.

Schala: Did he fall into the Kajar river?

Belthasar: How'd you know about that?

Schala: I was near there with Melleck the other day.

Belthasar: Oh, well then can you confirm the claim that he plucked out of death by some mystery man in a cloak?

Gaspar: Hm? Was that who saved him?

Belthasar: You know him?

Gaspar thought for a moment.

Gaspar: Uh... yes... there was something I heard recently. Apparently someone came down from Mount Woe a few days ago... The Earthbounders described him in great detail... I think I took the information down into that folderI have onMount Woe information...

Schala: So did they say where he came from?

Gaspar: What? Oh... Well, the weird thing was they said he didn't climb up the mountain at any time. Accourding to them, he just came down one day. He was wounded, so he bought some of their medicine and slept there for the night... then I think they said he was heading off to Zeal...

Melchoir chuckled.

Melchoir: Well, it's not like that would be the first weird thing to happen on Mount Woe...

Belthasar: Which reminds me... Melchoir, I need 40 grams of Dreamstone for the Mammoth Machine.

Melchoir: What? I just gave you 200 five days ago! What happened to that?

Belthasar: Well, it was fine for the central amplifier, but how I need wiring that can channel large amounts of magical energy without melting down, and Dreamstone's the only thing that can do it.

Melchoir: That was all the Dreamstone I had in stock! How much do you think you're going to be using for this thing?

The blue-robed Guru puts a chin to his head.

Belthasar: Well, that's tough to say... The more I look into it, the larger each individual peice seems to need to be... Not to mention how large the casting will have to be...

Schala: But the Earthbounders are already working 12-hour days to mine the Dreamstone out of the Terra Continent. It'd be cruel to make them work any harder.

Belthasar: But no metal carries a magical current like Dreamstone. I can't work with anything else.

Melchoir: _(Mockingly) _Here's an idea- while we're getting more Dreamstone, how about you do something other then work for a change, hm? _(Normally) _What time is it?

Gaspar takes out a gold pocket-watch.

Gaspar: Quarter 'til.

Belthasar: Schala, did your mother say exactly when she would arrive? I can hardly wait around all night for her to show up.

Melchoir: Eh. Queen always wants to make an entrance.

Schala: She probably won't be too much longer.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As the ball rolled back to him he rolled it away again, and once more Alfador went chasing after it. The catbit it viciously and tugged at it with her mouth. Janus liked to play with Alfador like this before he went to bed. Walking up to her, he began to try and strangle the ball away from her. Finally getting it out from between her paws, he lightly tossed it again.

Not lightly enough though, it would seem. The door was open a crack and once the yarn-ball managed to make its way out and into the hall. Alfador bounded after it of course, and pounced upon it outside the door. Janus sighed and stood up. He walked out into the hallway and tried to get it away again so they could go back inside.

Janus suddenly got a very strange feeling. He smelt something... It was the strong smell of blood, filling his nostrils. It smelt like blood was all around him, splattered on the walls and pooled on the ground. He could suddenly hear loud, echoing footsteps coming.

A strange, freakish creature walked toward him. He was draped in long red-stained robes, with shriveled, pale skin underneath. He wore black boots that were blood-stained to the heel. His face looked warped and distorted. It seemed to want to moan in agony, but also had some kind of quiet acceptance in its eyes. Two thick, black, curved horns were protruding from his forehead, scraping the ceiling. Strangely enough, something very bright and endearing object was chained around its neck. It looked like star that had been taken from the sky itself.

Feeling afraid, Janus lowed himself over Alfador and clutched her closely. The creature saw him and came to a halt. The demonic being looked him in the eye. The prince suddenly felt too scared to move. There was a long silence between them.

The Prophet: Huh... It won't get much stranger then this...

He took a step toward the boy.

The Prophet: I wonder... what do you see? Do you see that face that your mother sees?

He came another step closer look down at the child on the floor.

The Prophet: Or do you see the part of me... that's the most like you? Minus the qualities that are my ambition to being here?

Janus blinked.

Janus: Li...Like me?

The Prophet: You don't see what I'm looking for. Or what I'm going to do to it, when I find it...

There is a pause, and the creature turns away.

The Prophet: I bring you no harm, but I can do nothing to stop harm from coming...

It began to walk away. A trail of bloody footprints were left behind it.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Belthasar: So when do you think you could get me that Dreamstone?

Melchoir: I don't know. Could be a few-

Dalton: You geezers wanna move outta the way?

The four turned to see the one eyed General standing beside them. He still has the Blueprints tube under his arm. Melchoir looked behind their group. There was an antique Inn-Table occupying the Main Chamber, which always had a small bottle of brandy with some glasses should any of the blue-bloods need a shot. The guru let out a snort.

Melchoir: Sure are fond of the drink, aren't we, Dalton?

Dalton: What if we are? That a crime, now?

Dalton moves between them and begins to pour himself a drink.

Dalton: So where's the Queen at?

Belthasar: Just what we were wondering.

Gaspar: Makes a point to always be late to her own parties.

Dalton: Well, let's hope she gets here soon. I've got something I gotta show her.

Melchoir: What sort of thing?

Melchoir reaches for the tube under Daltons arm, but the general moves it out of his reach.

Dalton: It's pretty technical. You probably wouldn't understand.

Belthasar: Then let me take a look.

Dalton: Not anything you should be busy with. Just some Blackbird changes I-

Belthasar: Some what? Give me that!

Belthasar snatches the tube from Dalton and begins to open it.

Belthasar: You were never given the authority to make any changes to its design! What kind of changes could you make?

Dalton: Give that back! That's for the Queen to approval, not yours!

Belthasar: It's my ship! Just because I'm working on the Mammoth Machine now, that doesn't mean you can go about making changes to my designs!

Belthasar unrolls the blueprints.

Belthasar: What the hell?

Dalton: I told you you wouldn't understand.

Belthasar: I must not understand something, because it looks as if you're going to turn it into some Mechanical Bird of Doom.

Dalton: What if I was? It's not like it does anything now other then just sit around gathering dust.

Belthasar: Doesn't do anything? It's the first completely mechanical machine to defy gravity! It's a marvel of modern Zealean ingenuity!

Gaspar: Well... He does have a point...

Belthasar: What?

Gaspar: It uh... It doesn't really do anything... You just made it so it could be made, in a way...

Belthasar: Don't take his side! He's-

Suddenly, the group stopped fighting as a large trumpting rang through the room. Everyone present, from the servants handing out food trays to the blue-bloods conversing turned to the main doors.

The Queen was slowly, gracefully walking into the room, her necklace and earrings shining brightly in the light of the candles. Her royal gown fell down to her ankles, not quite covering her high black pumps. Her hair was done up skyward practically giving her another head's worth of height. Slender, silk gloves climbed up her arms past her elbows, rings on every finger. Her necklace wasn't really a necklace, so much as it was a collar covering everything between her chin and her shoulders, made entirely of diamonds. The room went silent as she steped forward. The sound of her high-heels against the marble echoed ominously.

Zeal: Welcome, one-and-all to my merry little ball. I suppose you're all wondering why I've called you here tonight.

She looked around the room. Her eyes rested on Schala, Dalton, and the Gurus for a moment.

Zeal: Well, I must say it isn't without good reason. As you all may know, tomarrow we'll be adding a new member to the Royal Council. My precious daughter, Schala.

She gestured to the girl in the corner, and all eyes turned to her. Schala found herself blushing.

Zeal: However... She will not be alone. There will be another joining our ranks tomarrow.

There was a slight murmer amongst the crowd. Position on the royal council wasn't something given out to just anyone. Several people tried to apply almost weekly, but the Queen only took people that she particuarly respected, or those that had climbed the political ladder to a dizzying height.

Zeal: Several nights ago I had a dream... I was walking toward something bright and beautiful. I had to have it, and when it was in my hands, Zeal would evolve beyond what it ever was... But as I walked toward it through the darkness, I lost my way.

The Queen paused for a moment, replaying the dream in her mind.

Zeal: But as I wandered blindly through the woods, praying that I would find the path again, he appeared to me.

She began to get a far-off look in her eyes.

Zeal: He was a man of great height, towering over me. A cloak was draped around him, covering his face, but I could see his eyes shining through the darkness as he looked down upon me. He glided seamlessly before me and took my hand. With that, he gently guided me before the object of glory. When I awoke, he was there at my bedside.

There was a pause in the speech, as the crowd looked at their ruler, some with hope, some with suspicion, some with utter disbelief.

Zeal: He is a mighty oracle, sent here by the hands of the gods to guide our kingdom into prosperity. Behold- The Prophet.

As she spoke, another came through the doors on her right. The figure is The Prophet who's been seen here-and-there throughout Zeal. He looks rather odd standing beside the queen, as he was about a foot taller then her.

Zeal: Enough, let us welcome the good man into our midst. Eat, drink, be merry!

Zeal and the Prophet began to walk into the room. As the queen moved toward her daughter, the newcomer was almost immediately hoarded upon by the blue-bloods and bombarded with questions.

Zeal: Schala, my dear. Have you been enjoying yourself?

Schala: Well... Yes mother, but-

Zeal: Wonderfull.

Zeal reached out and casually hugged her daughter.

Zeal: He's quite nice, isn't he? I have to introduce you.

Melchoir: Uh... Milady, if I may- Last time I checked there were no council positions open.

Zeal: We can make an exception for him, believe me.

Gaspar: Are you sure he's a real prophet, Milady?

Zeal: Oh, he's real. He's been telling me stories for the past few days that have all come true. For example... Dalton, you've got something to show me, haven't you?

Dalton: W-what?

Zeal: You want me to give you my approval for the modifications for the Blackbird, right?

Dalton: He knew about... wait I...

Zeal: I should tell you now, the answer is no.

Dalton: What?

Zeal: Belthasar isn't happy with changes being made to his brainchild. The prophet tells me, that if I approved your new changes, he'd spend alot of time supervising and watching the reconstruction. Of course, that would eat into the time he spent on the Mammoth Machine.

Dalton: How did... hang on a second, that guy couldn't have known about the blueprints. I never told a soul about them until tonight!

Zeal: He's an oracle. He knows these things.

Dalton: But your highness-

Zeal: Come along Schala, you must meet this man.

The Queen takes Schala's hand and guides her over toward the Prophet, who's still being questioned by the bluebloods.

Lady Terra: So... you were blessed with the Divine Sight. Why did you choose to aid our Queen?

The Prophet: I have seen the fruits that will grow if I help her accomplish her dream. This will come not only to her benefit, and the benefit of Zeal itself. I would be included in the glory given unto our citizens.

Zeal: Prophet, come here for a moment.

The man in the cowl turns and makes his way through the Aristocrats to Queen Zeal.

Zeal: I want to introduce you to my daughter, Princess Schala Zeal.

Schala:_ (blush) _Um... There's no need for that mother, we've met...

The Prophet: A pleasure all the same.

Zeal: You've met before? Why didn't you tell me?

Schala: I saw him in Kajar today. He saved a scientist from falling off the edge.

Zeal: Hm? Oh yes, I hear that's been happening more and more often lately.

Belthasar steps up.

Belthasar: So I have you to thank for saving Professor Higgins?_ (Squinting at the Prophet) _Can't say you don't match his description. You have no face.

Dalton: _(Suspiciously) _So... You were born in Kajar?

The Prophet: No.

Gaspar: Where were you born? Enhasa, I hope. I'm an old Enhasa man myself, you know.

The Prophet: _(Slightly uncomfortable) _I'm not from the three cities.

Melchoir: Not from the three cities?

Gaspar: But that would mean...

Dalton suddenly flares up and points accusingly at the newcomer.

Dalton: Highness, an Earthbound one has no place in Zeal! He can't be allowed on the council.

The Prophet: I'm not from the Terra Continent either.

Melchoir chuckles.

Melchoir: Don't be silly, boy. If you're not from Zeal, and you're not an Earthbound, where do you come from?

The Prophet: Far away.

There is a minor pause as this sinks in.

Schala: You mean... from somewhere beyond Zeal?

Dalton: That's... that's not possible.

Zeal: _(Calmly) _It's also not possible to see something before it happens, yet our splendid guest does that as well.

Gaspar: But... but where is this place? Is it in the ocean, or is it ascended like Zeal is? Have they accumulated magical powers there?

The Prophet: They have magic there. Different magic, but magic all the same... But their land remains bound within the sea.

Schala: _(intrigued) _This place beyond Zeal... what's it like?

The Prophet began to consider the question. What was the first thing that came to his mind when he thought of the Mystic's World?

Of course- the unsanitary nature that surrounded every part of life in that place. Only the privileged Mystics like Ozzie bathed, and did so in wooden tubs filled with cold, only semi-clean water from a nearby river. All others may wash minorly if they felt the need, but were often covered in bits of dirt and mud. Even after a battle, Mystics may do nothing more then stick their hands in a brook and maybe splash some water on their faces. Easily, the best pirk of being their Savior was that he could remain hygenic between battles.

The Prophet: Bedraggled, yet strangely sociable.

Dalton: Bedraggled? You mean dirty? Dirty like how?

Zeal: Enough. We don't want to overload our new guest on his first night out in public, do we? Let's enjoy ourselves. Come here, for a moment Schala, I'd like to speak with you...

As the queen and princess steer away, The Prophet approaches the Guru in Red.

The Prophet: You're Gaspar, correct? The Guru of Time?

Gaspar: Yes?

The Prophet: I've been reading your books since I arrived here in Zeal. I love your work.

Gaspar: Really? I can't imagine a Prophet being interested in how to translate Ancient Zeal text...

The Prophet: I meant your other works. I've been particuarly interested in "The Timestream and Its Banks".

Gaspar: You... You actually read that?

The Prophet: Yes, and I wanted to ask you about the creation of "Time Boats" as you called them.

Gaspar: Hmm... I think I went a little overboard with the River metaphors... Still, you actually read my book?

The Prophet: Didn't I just tell you that?

Gaspar: Yes, but... Out of all the books I wrote nobody seemed interested in that one... or able to understand it... Come sit with me...

The Guru puts his arm around the Prophet and leads him toward some chairs. Meanwhile, Queen Zeal and Schala are slightly away from the festivities, talking to each other.

Zeal: So, Schala... Nervous about tomarrow?

Schala: A little...

Zeal: Well, I wanted to tell you not to worry. Running the country is much easier then those administration courses made it seem. Try to follow my lead, and you'll do fine.

Schala: Thanks, mom...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He rolled over again. This time facing the wall. Nervous, he brought his knees under his chin and began to bite his pillow.

That thing... he couldn't stop thinking about it. It looked wounded, but it didn't seem to want help. At the same time, it was screaming for it... Wouldn't it be dangerous to have it inside the castle? It could do anything. Alot of that blood didn't belong to him... Would it kill people? He considered again getting up to tell someone about it, but he doubted they'd believe him.

For the past few weeks, he'd noticed, people seemed to be paying less heed to him. They'd always been somewhat cold... The Prince never had any friends his own age. He'd often watch them play from the windows of his room. They would run into each other, yell at each other, and throw squishy substances at each other. They really looked like utter idiots... But a large part of Janus wanted to be an idiot too. Even though they acted like fools, they seemed to be having so much fun. When he saw them enjoying themselves so much, he couldn't help but think "Why can't I be like that?" When he asked Schala, she said that it was part of being royalty.

Even if he hand no friends, the servants of the palace still did what he asked. Even if there was this layer of coldness to him. Granted, they would listen to his sister or the Gurus before him, but he was listened to...

But in the course of two weeks, things seemed to be shifting. The servants seemed to be avoiding him, passing him to each other as if he was a chore, or an embarrassment. They would often make up excuses to not do as he asked, and to get away from him. The boy was constantly finding himself alone and wondering, "What's happening to me? Aren't I still the prince?"

So who would believe him if he said anything about that monster? Gaspar or Schala might, but they were at the party. And he doubted he would get in there through the guards. The fact that he was absolutely petrified of seeing that thing again didn't really help.

He knew that the experience wasn't a dream, but even so, he recorded it in the journal Gaspar gave him. After all of the nightmares he'd had, Gaspar eventually gave him a blank book to write about his dreams. He had been filling it up pretty quickly, taking down every frightening detail about the things he'd seen in his sleep. He even illustrated many of them as best he could. He questioned why he had so many nightmares, and Gaspar said that it was common for intelligent chlidren.

Part of Janus wondered if the idiot kids he watched from his window ever had nightmares.

Alfador was waving her tail in her sleep. He could feel it stroking his back. It made him feel much better, that small stroking of his spine. It made him feel like everything was alright, because she was beside him. The weight of her on the matress constantly reminded him that she was there, and that he didn't have to be afraid of anything.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Back at the party, Schala had moved back into the main crowd. As she watched many of the bluebloods try to converse with the tight-lipped Prophet, she considered finally going to bed. She needed to rest up for tomarrow. That's when she saw Dalton walking up to her.

Dalton: Princess, I almost forgot to ask you something.

Schala: Oh, okay...

Dalton: I was talking to my security force yesterday, they said you were asking if anybody was around your room about four days ago?

Schala: Uh... yes... I just thought somebody was around that night. It's nothing really.

Dalton: Why'd you think that? Did you hear somebody?

Schala: Well... You see... I woke up in the middle of the night. I was confused, since I couldn't imagine what woke me up. I tried to fall asleep again, but then I just...

Dalton: What? What happened?

Schala: I felt like there was somebody else in the room. I started to feel scared, so I got up and looked behind me... but there was a sort of "whoosh" sound and then there was nobody there...

Dalton: That's it?

Schala: My window was open.

Dalton sighed, looking annoyed.

Dalton: Your window is on the second floor of the palace. Listen Princess, don't go bothering my men about little imaginary peeping toms, okay? They've got more important things to do.

Cross, Dalton walks off, bumping into Melchoir.

Dalton: Watch it!

Melchoir moves toward Schala.

Schala: He's in a bad mood.

Melchoir: Yes... He must not be happy with the Prophet's decision about the Blackbird.

Schala: I just hope he doesn't get drunk again.

Melchoir watches Dalton angrily storm past a well-dressed woman in with a Mink Shawl.

Melchoir: I think he's had quite a bit already... Anyway, how's your brother doing?

Schala: He's still having nightmares...

Melchoir: Eh. All smart children have nightmares. That's what my dad used to say. That boy's pretty clever. I saw him reading _The Tomb of Arkon_ the other day.

Schala: Yeah... he told me he liked how the book spoke of growth from hopelessness.

Melchoir: I didn't read that book until my first year of college.

At a nearby table, The Prophet and Gaspar are still conversing.

Gaspar: And then the two points of time are forced to meet and an opening is torn between them.

The Prophet: I understand that, the question is, how would one generate a Spatial Abnormality strong enough to have that effect?

Gaspar leaned back and stroked his chin in thought.

Gaspar: Good question... It might work with an obsene discharge of magical energy, but I don't think there's that much power in the world...

The Prophet: Maybe...

Gaspar: Um... why do you need me to tell you this? Can't you see it, being a Prophet and all?

The Prophet: Foresight is limited to large events and things I'll play a hand in. I can't just see anything that strikes my interest.

Gaspar: Oh... So you wouldn't know... Um...

The Prophet turns to look at Gaspar.

Gaspar: I had a son once... Do you-

Zeal: That's enough now.

The Queen was standing before the main doors again, adressing the room.

Zeal: I believe that we've had enough fun tonight. My daughter and our guest have their first meeting tomarrow. It's about time we all turned in, wouldn't you say? Guards, show our guest to his room.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Schala walked slowly down the hall. Her feet were killing her. She needed to lie down and get some sleep for tomarrow.

As she passed Janus's room, he stopped. Carefully, she opened the door a crack a peeked inside. Her brother was turned toward the wall, his back to her. He didn't seem to be turning, or sweating. Just sleeping peacefully. That was a pleasant change from his usual sleeping pattern. Maybe this meant that his nightmares were passing. Softly as possible she shut the door and went off to her own room.

Once inside, she put her hair down and began to undress. Janus's nightmares seemed to be getting worse lately. He usually only came to her if it was particuarly bad, otherwise he would take comfort in Alfador. But now he would wake her up in the middle of the night, describing horrid beasts and visions from his own mind. His dreams would often have their mother in them, but some deformed, ghastly version. He illustrated these forms in his journal. When she told Gaspar about it, he said that he would like to see the journal once he'd finished it.

Pulling her nightgown over her head, she began to ponder Melchoir's remark about smart children. Janus was very intelligent, and judging by his dreams, very imaginative. He would often borrow Schala's books and finish them before she did. She was sure that he'd make a very fine king. Even if he never gained great magical prowess, he'd be a wonderful administrator.

She crawled into bed and pulled the soft, cotton covers up to her chin.

Yes, things looked very good for her brother, indeed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was so easy. Almost too good to be true.

He found himself grinning as he brought the hood of his cloak down to comb his hair. The night had gone better then he had honestly expected. The aristocrats "ooh"ed and "aww"ed at his entrance on cue, all wondering where he came from and what his purpose was. None of them knew it was him. None of them had the slightest clue.

It wasn't likely anybody could find out, anyway. The possibility of a boy being thrown in time, growing up, and then thrown back to a point prior to when he was thrown in the first place wasn't the first thing that crossed one's mind when being introduced. Still, there were enough religious nuts in Zeal to believe him to be another incarnation of the Prince. It was best for him to keep his hood up, just to be on the safe side. He couldn't afford to take risks now.

In addition to the problem with his identity, he also had to be brought into high society quickly. If he was going to be in the Ocean Palace by the time Lavos appeared, he couldn't afford to climb the ladder. He would have to be assured instantanious acceptance from the bluebloods. It was a good thing they were so in awe of him, all sending wave upon wave of questions at him. It made things easier for him. Not that their opinion really mattered in the long term.

After all, he had the Queen. It was obviously the fastest way of getting into the Inner Council. Place the Queen under his inlufence, and use her to hasten Lavos's arrival. Once he'd realised where he was, and he had properly recovered from the encounter with the amphibian, he went upwards to the Kingdom. With hardly any effort, he slipped past the faceless guards and into the Queen's inner chambers. Controlling her dreams, he placed a charm upon her. While not exactly controlling her, he did place her under his influence to the point where it hardly mattered. She'd go along with whatever he said now, no matter how unusual.

Getting up he hung his cloak over a chair and laid down in bed. He had requested a curtained bedchamber, similar to the one he had in his Mystic lodgings. It would work to hide his face should anyone walk in to see him.

He had to admit, there were moments were he was nervous. When he was introduced to Schala and the Gurus, he couldn't get his mind off what might happen if they found out his identity. Not as nervous, he had to admit, as when he met Schala by the river earlier that day. He simply wasn't prepared for his sister to be right there talking to him. But he had managed to get through the proceedings of the evening without major mishap, right under her nose.

This wasn't the first time he'd seen her, though...

It was a huge risk. He hadn't formed the idea of posing as the Prophet yet, and wasn't even wearing the hood of his cloak. If he was caught by the castle guards, he could easily escape, but never get into the council. But he had to do it. The instant he came down into the Earthbound village and realized where he was, he knew that he would need to do it.

He unlocked the window of her room and stepped inside. It was illegal, yes. Even if she was a normal girl, it would qualify as stalking. But to look upon her sleeping form was something he'd been lusting after for ten years. She looked so perfect. She was so pure lying there in her nightgown like that. He considered peeking into her dreams, but decided against it. She was much smaller then he remembered. He should've expected that, but she was so short. She was tiny. Fragile.

Once Lavos was dead, he could look at her all day and night. She'd be his sweet little sister, and he would watch over her.

He knew it was foolish to be so assured of his victory, but he couldn't help but look longingly toward his life after he killed the beast. The life he had planned out for himself...

Heh. Not too bad, eh? I think it works quite well. The fic will continue to recount the history of Zeal up until the awakening of Lavos and the country's destruction. If you have any thoughts, positive or negetive, please, tell me in a reveiw. I'd love to hear from you...


	2. Chapter 2

Peace. It is Lance again, with the second chapter of my new story. I would've had this up sooner, but I've been rather busy. I hope you enjoy reading it. If you have any thoughts, be they positive or negetive, please leave a review or IM me.

I won't keep you. Here's the second chapter. Enjoy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Janus: I think you'll be a good council member...

Janus was again seated on Schala's bed as she looked herself over in the mirror. She was combing her hair for the twelfth time that morning.

Schala: This... this is really a new step for me.

Janus: Don't be so nervous.

Schala smirks.

Schala: You're one to talk. Some days you're practically forcing yourself into your lessons.

Janus: _(blush)_ That's... that's different...

Schala: Sure it is... How do I look?

Schala does a small twirl.

Janus: I think you're really pretty.

Schala: Thanks... You don't have classes today. What do you think you might do?

Janus: Gaspar said he was give me a new book before the meeting started. I was gonna take a look through it.

Schala: Alright... Wish me luck.

Janus: Good luck, ne-chan...

Schala walks out of her room and into the bustling hallways of the palace. The maids and servants moved about, each with their own specific tasks to see to. Yet they were all smart enough toform a path for her,and to nothinder theprogress of aRoyal Council Member. She came closer to the large twin doors leading to the Council's Chambers, when she heard her name.

Belthasar: Schala! There you are, my dear.

Schala: Oh... am-am I late?

Belthasar: No, you're right on time. I almost didn't make it though. Had to drop what I was doing to get here...

The two walk through the doors. Schala had been expecting a round table, surrounded by chairs, and with glasses of water or papers on top of it... Instead, the focal point of the room a throne, identical to the one in the palace's throne room. Right down to the small velvet-covered steps leading to it. Small inntables were strung around the walls, with pitchers and glasses of ice water upon them. The members of the council could be seen standing around idlely. The Prophet was at the top of the stairs, standing like a statue at the Queen's right side. Dalton was at the bottom of the steps, arms folded and an annoyed look on his face. She spotted Melchoir looking over some papers in a corner. Belthasar walked toward him, and Schala moved to follow.

Zeal: Right on time, Schala. Come sit up here by me.

She turned, to see her mother motioning to a smaller jade chair beside her. Seeing her mother's motions, she walked up the stairs and sat down. While it certainly looked expensive, the chair was devoid of the jewels and gold that covered her mothers, and the fact that her mother was seated much higher thenshe wasmade her very self-conscious.

Zeal: Is everyone accounted for?

Belthasar: Gaspar still isn't here.

Zeal: Eh. Same as every week.Before we begin, Belthasar?

Belthasar: Hm?

Zeal: I understand you need more Dreamstone for the Mammoth Machine, correct?

Belthasar: How did-

Zeal happily points to The Prophet, who's casually standing beside her reading a ragged, dusty book.

Zeal: Take as much as you need and continue with production.

Melchoir: M'am, there's no Dreamstone in stock. We'll have to wait until we've extracted more from the Terra Continent. We've found a new reserve, but it'll take some time for the Earthbounders to mine it out.

Zeal: Double their hours and supervisors. That should just-

Schala: Mother!

Melchoir: Your highness, the Earthbounders are already workingtwelve hours a day under brutal conditions. It'd be cruel to push them even harder.

Zeal: I want the Mammoth Machine completed as fast as possible. For that, we must have Dreamstone.

Schala: But-

Zeal: Believe me, Schala, this is definately for the best.

The Prophet: Milady, if I may...

All eyes turn to the Prophet as he stands beside the Queen's throne.

The Prophet: There is another way to increase Earthbound productivity.

Dalton: _(Under breath)_ This should be interesting.

The Prophet: Belthasar, what do you call that cutting tool you use at Kajar?

Belthasar: Ah, the lacerator? What about it?

The Prophet: Is it effective?

Belthasar: Yes, very. We use it to cut and form new peices of machinery and weld wires.

The Prophet: (To Queen) Milady, if we equip the Earthbounders with those tools, they could move through the rock easily. It would be easier on their muscles, and would undoubtably increase moral.

Dalton: Highness, my men use lacerators all the time. I don't know if the Earthbounders are intelligent enough to properly operate them.

Melchoir: They're not savages, Dalton.

Schala: I think it's an excellent idea. If the productivity rose enough, we may even be able to decrease work hours.

Zeal: Yes... It would be an easier solution... Very well! Belthasar, how many of those do you have in stock?

Belthasar: Well, our supply station keeps about two-hundred in reserve for both my workers.

Zeal: Give one-hundred to the Earthbounders, and order five-hundred more. I want every Earthbound man with a pair of legs to be working toward the Mammoth Machine by the end of the week.

Dalton turns his back to the others. Hepulls a small metal flask from under his shirt and takes a large swig from it.

Zeal: Now then, Melchoir, I want you opin-

The door opens and everyone looks up. Gaspar walks in, sweating. He closes the door behind him, looking rather apologetic. He has a large paperbag in one hand.

Gaspar: Sorry I'm late. I forgot we had a meeting today.

Melchoir: Again.

Belthasar: Jesus, get a calander.

Gaspar: I did... I think I lost it...

Schala: What's in the bag, Gaspar?

Zeal: Is that the status reports for the Sun Stones I asked for?

Gaspar reaches under his coat and takes out some stapled papers which he hands to the Queen.

Gaspar: Uh... no, that's right here... The bag's just a little something I'm lending the Prince. I was on my way to give it to him before I realized I was supposed to be in a meeting... Um... Majesty...

Zeal: (Looking over papers) Hm?

Gaspar: Now that you have those reports, I was wondering if I could drop this off with him... He was rather looking forward to it...

Zeal: No. I need to speak with you and Melchoir about the Shell.

Schala: (Getting up) I can take it to him, mother.

Zeal: Nonsense. It's your first day. You stay right here, dear. Dalton, why don't you take it to the boy?

Dalton turns back to group, surprised.

Dalton: Me?

Zeal: Yes, you're not doing anything. Take it to the boy and come back. Take as long as you want.

Dalton looks at the Queen for a moment. He then angrily walks up to the Red Guru and snatches away the bag. He moves toward the room of the door as slides it open.

As he steps into the Royal Hall, he hears a voice. Not behind him, in front of him, or even on the air at all. One inside of his own mind. A brief question injected into his head through magic.

The Prophet: While you're up, bring me a coffee, would you? Cream, no sugar.

Dalton spun around for a brief moment. He could see the Queen was engaging in conversation with the Gurus. Right beside her, still leaning on the wall, was the Prophet. He was smirking in the General's direction. Dalton narrowed his eye angrily before turning out. He began to storm down the hall toward the Royal Bedrooms.

Dalton: Fucker! That fucker in a bedsheet! Who the hell does he think he is?

While storming the general swats a vase on a table, knocking it into the ground. Pottery, flowers, and water pour onto the castle's carpet.

Dalton: _(To nearby maids)_ Clean this shit up!

As the maids ran to attend to the vase, Dalton continued down the hall.

Dalton: What the hell is wrong with that woman? Doesn't she see this guy's a fraud? He's just leading her around by the nostrils! I swear to God I'm going to rip off those drapes he's wrapped in and strangle him with them!

He stopped for a minute panting. He looked down at the bag in his hand.

Dalton: What the hell's in this anyway?

Dalton reaches into the bag and takes out a thick, torn book. Upon the cover was an emblem resembling a large purple octopus. It's red eyes seem to pierce the cover eerilly. Dalton peers at the title.

Dalton: "The Call Of... Ul.. Ultruthtu... By Dr. Strangelovecraft"

The general blinks.

Dalton: Does he really expect a kid to get this book?

He puts it back in the bag and continues down the hall. He comes to the side-by-side doors that led to the Royal Children's bedrooms.Bitterly, heopens thedoor on the leftand steps inside. He stands in the doorway not bothering to close it behind him.

Dalton: Kid.

He gets no reply. Alfador is on the Prince's bed, bathing herself in the light from the window. As Dalton walks in, she stops and as turns to look at him. Janus is at his desk. He's hunched over the surface, apparently looking at something. He doesn't show any interest in Dalton's entrance.

Dalton: Kid!

Janus jumps. There's a noise of a book slamming and he spins around quickly in his seat.

Janus: D-Dalton?

Dalton: One of the walking corpses sent this for you.

Daltoncarelessly drops the bag on the floor.

Dalton: What've you got there?

Janus shifts in his seat. He casually moves closer to the desk, hiding the item from Dalton's sight.

Janus: Just some... schoolwork...

There's a momentary pause in the room.

Dalton: Hmmm... How old are you again?

Janus: Seven.

Dalton: Not quite old enough to be doing _that_, then...

Janus: Doing what?

Dalton: So then what are you looking at?

Dalton begins to move forward.

Janus I-I told you, it's just some homework...

Dalton: Gimme.

Janus: DON'T!

Dalton reaches behind Janus andeasily snatches a thin, tiny book. Janus gets out of his seat and attempts to grab it, but Daltonholds it level with his eye where Janus can reach it.

The book's cover it very soft. It's decorated with drawing of a rather stupid-looking Zealian family. They're looking around in awe at specks of magical energy decorating the cover. The title above them in bright, colorful letters. Dalton smirks.

Dalton: _The Magic Power_...

Janus stops attempting to grab the book. His eyesgaze slowly and become fixed on the ground.

Dalton: This is your homework? You said you were seven.

Janus: I-I am...

Dalton: You know what this book is, right?

Janus: It's a... um... beginner's guide...

Dalton: Beginner's guide?

Dalton laughs loudly as Janus's usually pale face begins to glow red.

Dalton: Shit, kid, this isn't a beginner's guide! This is like- a pamphlet for pre-schoolers! Parents read this to three-year-olds just starting their accidental spells! And you're seven, right?

Janus: Right... Right...

Dalton: Jesus, you should be learning your elemental by now! Espicially with your supposedly _"invincible"_ family. The queen was seven when she got an element. So was your sister.

Janus: Four.

Dalton: What?

Janus looks uncomfortable for a moment. He puts his hands into his pockets shyly.

Janus: When... when Schala started elementals she was only um... four...

Dalton: Who told you that?

Janus: Gaspar...

Dalton: Huh...

Dalton's grin become slightly wider.

Dalton: So does your sister know you read this?

The prince began to shuffle his feet.

Janus: No... I uh... I didn't...

Dalton: No wonder she's so persistant about this. Somebody as weak as this...

Janus narrowed his eyes. He was beginning to feel ripples of anger under the embarressment that had been gripping him.

Dalton: Maybe you should tell her about how far behind you are. That might knock some sense into that girl. God knows she needs some.

Some of the points Dalton was making was true. He was weak, but this wasn't right. Dalton was a General. Even _he _knew that in Zeal, that position meant nothing. There were no other lands to fight Zeal. The only other society was the Earthbound one, and they were of no threat at all.

But Janus was a Prince. He was going to rule one day. Yet Dalton somehow thought that he had the authority to mouth off to him. The man who would soon be his boss.

Dalton: How do the Gurus train you day after day? No wonder they're so senile. I'd have lost it too if I had to go four years with no progress.

That wasn't right. He was shy. He was a kid. And he hadn't cast a spell in his whole life. But that didn't mean this drunkard could forget his place and talk down to him like he was some peasant.

Dalton: I'd heard rumors of the "Earthbound Prince", but I at least thought you could do_ some _magic.

Janus: THAT'S NOT TRUE!

Dalton: What?

There was a brief pause. Janus suddenly felt the angersoar out of him, and he once again felt embarressment and shame. Looking back, he was actually rather surprised at that outburst. It was so unlike him to yell at someone. He'd never really felt that angry at anyone before. Not even Dalton.

Dalton: What's not true, tough guy?

The prince blinked. He started to wish he was still angry. Then maybe Dalton wouldn't seem so intimidating.

Janus: The um... Y'know... what you said...

Dalton: What? That you can't do magic?

Janus: Y-Yeah, I mean... I can do_ some _magic.

Dalton smirked.

Dalton: Really? Well, I'll have to come by your lessons sometime.

Dalton turns and walks out of the room.

Dalton: Oh, and uh... the old man's present for you is on the floor.

There was a pause as Janus sat in his chair in thought. After a moment, he stood up and walked over to the bag on the floor. He reached in and took out the book.

Janus: Huh... I didn't think he'd really lend it to me.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After Dalton walked out of the room, disgruntled,business continued with the council. The Prophet leaned back relaxed after his unprovoked taunt of the one-eyed general.

Zeal: Right then, next order of business?

Gaspar: Uh... Yes, Highness, I have some information about Lavos that I think you may wish to know.

Zeal: Information? What sort of information?

Gaspar: Well uh... several days ago, Belthasar had managed to maintain photographs of the creature using uh... one of those new... Uh... what do you call... Red Cameras?

Belthasar: Infrared.

Gaspar: Right. Infrared Cameras on the Ocean Palace...

Zeal: Belthasar, is this true?

Belthasar: Yes, m'am. We'd never be able to get actual photographs as the beast lies at almost the outer core of the Earth, but the new cameras placed in the Ocean Palace worked beautifully.

Gaspar: Milady, after comparing these new photographs with some data in my files, I've confirmed that the late King Leoric's theory on Lavos' origin was in fact, the truth.

The Prophet looks up from his place on the wall.

Schala: My father knew where Lavos came from?

Gaspar: Well, in a way. You all remember how my archeological department discovered the bones of the mythical Thunder Lizards all those years ago, correct?

There is a slight murmur of agreement throughout the room.

Gaspar: Well, his lordship was the one who made that happen. He had an interest in history, and for as long as I knew him, he regarded the myths of the Thunder Lizards as reality. He was kind enough to grant me a budget to examine the bones discovered in Terra Contin-

Zeal: (annoyed) I remember the grant he gave you quite well, Gaspar. Get to the point.

Gaspar: Uh... Yes, milady. When he discovered the existance of a creature living within the Earth, he gave it the name of the mythical Lavos.

Melchoir: Lavos had a part in mythology?

Gaspar: Yes. You see, in the ancient Zealian tongue, Lavos translates into "Big Fire" or "Fire Bigger then Sky". Now it's said that the war against the Thunder Lizards ended because a red star fell from the sky, and became an all-consuming flame that ravaged the land. The whole of the Thunder Lizard species was destroyed. They say that afterward, our ancestors witnessed the star burrowing into the Earth. It obviously being the source of the flame, they called it Lavos.

Zeal: A star falling to Earth?

Belthasar: Impossible. Stars are several times Earth's size. While the Thunder Lizards existed, this part of the legend is an obvious fabrication.

Gaspar: He might not have been an actual star, but I compared the cave drawings of the beast to the photographs Belthasar took. Here, see.

The guru again reaches into his coat and takes another two pictures. One a red-and-black photograph, and another a shot taken of a cave-wall. He hands them toward the Queen, as the Prophet moves to look over her shoulder..

The first photograph looked like it had been taken by an infrared camera. It was of a huge black shape on a background of red. The form of spherical, but large spines appeared to be on the sides. At the center of it, looking into the camera, was a huge red circle that looked strikingly like an eye. The other shot was of a grady stone wall of an old cave. There is a dried-on red drawing over it. It was a rather poor drawing, little more then a huge ball of spines, but on one end was an eye similar to the one in the more recent photo. Upon the bottom of the ball seemed to be clawed feet.

Gaspar: As you can see, Milady, they are practically identical. Lavos is indeed the same as his namesake.

The Prophet: Hmmm...

Zeal: ...

Schala: So if my father knew about Lavos' existance, then that means we've known about him for some time.

Melchoir: Yes, your father and Belthasar first discovered that it was alive in around ten years ago. It wasn't until his death though, that we began to utilize the creature as a power source.

Gaspar: What are your thoughts, highness?

The Queen says nothing. Her eyes glaze over as she stares at the infrared photo taken of Lavos.

Gaspar: Milady?

Zeal: So what you're saying is... Lavos is a star.

Gaspar: Ummm...

Zeal: _(Quietly) _A star...

The Queen looks up again, a sudden resolution in her eyes.

Zeal: It is more obvious to me then ever before! Lavos is a gift from the gods themselves!

Belthasar: Madam, please-

Zeal: Our ancestors were saved from the maws of the Thunder Lizards by his presence, and today he reaches out to aid modern manto achieve his dreams.

Zeal turns behind her and gestures to the Prophet.

Zeal: This is proven more, by our new gift from the gods. The Prophet who will lead us to wakening the mighty Lavos. Who will lead us to Godhood!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The meeting continued for about three hours. Far shorter then typical. When the Queen's Circle gathered in the morning, it was expected for them to stay in Council's Chambers until dusk. Yet today the Queen called an early dismissal. As the council left its chambers, the Gurus decided to enjoy their unexpected time together. After making sure Schala didn't want to come along, they headed to a balcony on the castle's East Wing, sat down at a small round table, and ordered some service from the nearby hands.

Belthasar: I admit, it's good to get away from the lab. This Prophet business is getting the Queen to ease off me a bit.

Melchoir: She been hounding you much?

Belthasar: Of course she has. Every bloody day for two months now, she's been after me about how the Mammoth Machine's coming. She just won't stop about it.

Melchoir: Everybody's like that now. There's no patience in the world.

Gaspar: Come, sir. I think you're being a bit harsh on the public.

Melchoir: Oh, no. I see it all the time where I work. It used to be, back when the King was still alive, that if a client wanted both a sword and a shield forged in one week, it was considered a rush job, and they were lucky if they got it. But now that the Queen is using Lavos to fill everyone's desires, they all want everything instantly.

Belthasar: I'm surprised you still sell so many swords. It's not like we have any war in Zeal.

Melchoir: I think alot of nobles are paranoid about people attacking them for their job.

Gaspar: Yes... that seems to come with power. Even King Leoric had a little bit of paranoia about him.

Belthasar: He did, but the King was always there for his people, letting them actually live their lives. Have you been to Ehnasa lately? They're in bed all day there. The Queen's content to just let them dream without looking at the waking world.

Melchoir relaxes in his chair and stretches out his bad leg.

Melchoir: Ooooooh, that feels good. Just getting some time off work is great, eh?

Gaspar: My work's been so slow nowadays, I don't even notice the difference.

Belthasar: What do you mean?

Gaspar: The Queen just keeps making more and morecuts into my budget. I can't really afford that many new researchers for my next project.

Melchoir: Eh. Your next project was insane, anyway.

Gaspar: Are you mad? If the Queen would let me finish it, the Time-Egg would be able to preform miracles Lavos could never hope to.

Belthasar: I must admit, we would gain alot of knowledge from beinging back the dead.

Gaspar: Well, technically, they'll have never died, so you're not truly "bringing them back". But still, all the things I was meant to accomplish as Guru of Time. Gone.

Melchoir: I'm sorry, but she just wants the Mammoth Machine now.

Gaspar: That's all everybody wants now. The Mammoth Machine. Dreams. Lavos. What about the questions of where humans are supposed to be? Where we are. Where we came from. Where we're going. Nobody cares about those things today.

Belthasar: If you wanna know about the history of man-

The other two gurus groan.

Melchoir: Not that Nu-Theory again.

Belthasar: I'm telling you, life begins and ends with the Nu. He's the cornerstone of existance.

Melchoir: I saw him in Kajar the other day. He's set up a desk is selling magizines.

Belthasar: Yes, some of my workers complained about him, so now I can't bring him into the laboratory anymore. He wanted to do something useful so he set up shop. I think I might be neglecting him.

Gaspar: He seemed fine last time I saw him.

Belthasar: He gets lonely pretty easily. Maybe I should take a day off and-

Both of the other Gurus take mock-gasps.

Melchoir: Good god, Gaspar! The mighty Belthasar is considering a day off!

Gaspar: The world is ending!

The blue-clad geezer looked back and forth between his two comrades angrilly.

Belthasar: You guys suck.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_"There had been aeons when other Things ruled the earth, and They had had great cities. Remains of Them were still to be found as Cyclopean stones on islands in the Pacific. They all died vast epochs of time before men came, but there were arts which could revive Them when the stars had come round again to the right positions in the cycle of-"_

Schala: Janus?

Janus looked up suddenly from his spot on his bed. He had been lookingthrough the thick book Gaspar gave him which was open in his lap. He turned to see his sister looming over him, her hands on her hips and a rarely-seen look of anger on her face.

Schala: Janus, is that another Strangelovecraft book?

Janus: Uh... well...

The boy shifted his weight nervously as Schala gazed at him, tapping her foot. In a fast move, she snatched the old tome away, despite the book's large size and weight. She tucked it under her arm while keeping her eyes on her brother.

Schala: I said you weren't allowed to read any more of these. Everytime you read one of these stories, you wind up getting nightmares.

Janus: Um...

Janus would've pointed out that he usually got nightmares anyway, but decided not to push his sister. She was now flipping through the book, still looking slightly peeved at the grotesque diagrams of beasts and illustrationsof horrible bloodshed.

Schala: How'd you get this, anyway? I thought I told the library you weren't allowed to have these anymore.

Janus: Well...

Schala slowly brought her gaze up from the pages to look at her brother.

Schala: Gaspar gave this to you, didn't he?

Janus: No! I just sort of-

Schala: Don't lie Janus. I know Gaspar was giving you a book today, and this was it, wasn't it?

Whenever his sister gave him an angry look, it really hurt Janus. He was somehow always compelled to tell the truth in those situations. He had occasionally wondered if that was a spell Schala knew, or if she could just be intimidating like that.

Janus: Yes...

Schala: I knew it. I'll have to talk with him about that. I told you not to read any more of these, Janus.

Janus: I know...

Schala: You're going to have even more nightmares tonight, so it might be best if you slept with me, but don't think you and Gaspar are getting off the hook.

Janus: I'm... I'm sorry, ne-chan...

Schala sighed and sat down in a chair in the corner of the room. There were magical energies between herself and her brother that she could read and feel his emotions. She knew that he never just tried to get out of something, and when he was sorry, it was always genuine. That effected her inability to stay mad at him. It wasn't often that she had to scold him, anyway.

Janus: So... how was the meeting?

Schala: Pretty good. The Gurus said that mother was acting nicer then usual. Probably because it was me and The Prophet's first day.

Janus: Is that why you got out early?

Schala: I think so. The Prophet did a good job. He made a good deal to keep the Earthbounders from overworking.

Janus: That's nice.

Schala: Yeah. Seems like a nice guy.

Janus was silent for a moment. He thought about his meeting with the Prophet in the hallway, and how that creature was now walking through the Zealian palace unchecked, accepted by the populace. He tried to imagine him and Schala in the same room, but the horrible misery of that monster and the hope and joy that he felt in his sister's presence was hard to place side-by-side.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Prophet was walking downthedeep hallways to his room. He gazedthrough the large arch-shaped windows of the palace that looked out onto the green feilds of Zeal. Some idiot children were fooling around, kicking sand at each other on their day off from school. Beyond them their parents talked amongst each other, never looking at themselves and just spreading gossip about the council members and the people they worked with.

Since he returned to his own time, his growth in magical power had allowed him to feel the emotions of people around him. While normally Zealians may occasionally have a very vauge idea of what others think, only someone truly powerful like himself or Schala could read thefeelings and ideas of those around him. He noticed a particuarly strong bond existed between Schala and himself (Both of him). He had made sure to mask this from his sister and keep her from knowing his true identity. It was much easier then he expected. Feeling his sister's power and awarenesshe was surprised to find thatthey were much less then his own.

But the populace had no idea that a powerful mage was reading their thoughts at all hours, both collectively and individually. As he went through more and more minds of people from all points in the social structure of Zeal, he wasn't surprised to find his suspicions as a child were correct. The Zealians were consumed with pettiness and only thought inwardly. Even as he scanned the minds of the mothers in the feilds, he could see that they were spoiled and annoyed at the nuisence that their children made for them. They were swapping ideas as to how to control their offspring. Make the daughters like themselves, and the sons more submissive. They felt little love for their husbands and wanted more outlets for themselves.

The children were no better. He could see the subject of their parents and what troubles they may have in their marriage didn't effect them at all. They only seemed concerned about which parent would give them things and if arguments meant they could get away with more. They seemed to veiw adults as a collective enemy best kept blind to their antics and thought of themselves as so dramatically misunderstood they could appear in a work of Shakespere. They had small minds involving those they knew of their own age, and would make judgements based on sex, hair color, and most particuarly magical prowess.

He had also been surprised to find a few things in the Earthbound world. They had a problem with self-pity and thought of themselves as hopeless victims that deserved better. While they did feel true affection for The Gurus, particuarly Melchoir who went out of his way to help them, they also had a feeling of resentment to the Zealian public for keeping them like this. But at the same time they were cowards who didn't wish to face the wrath of the Zealian's spells. Schala had won them over and helped them with their businesses and to control the beasts that would wander into the caves from Mount Woe.

He would certainly have to do something about this pettiness once he was king.

Looking ahead of him, he saw the figure of Melchoir leaning on his cane as he unlocked the door to his room. In his hand was a little white box.

The Prophet kept from directly reading the minds of the Gurus or his sister. In addition to being dangerous for him to read the minds of people so aware, he had particuarly large amounts of respect for their privacy. But he could tell that the Guru was filled with excitement and anticipation. There were also magical vibrations emminating from the box that signaled it was filled with small Dreamstone pebbles. As Melchoir walked into his room, locking the door behind him, the Prophet put it out of his mind and continued on down the hall.

He considered heading toward the library but thought better of it. He hadn't been able to properly care for his scythe since he arrived in Zeal, and he needed it to be in perfect working condition for his strike on Lavos.

As he began to turn the doorknob to his room, he heard a angry voice from down the hall.

Dalton: Hey, asshole!

The Prophet slowly turned his cowled head in the direction of the general who was currently storming toward him.

Dalton: I wanna talk to you!

The Prophet: What do you want?

Dalton narrows his eyes and points his finger warningly.

Dalton: Where do you get off with those telepathic communications? You think you're better then me?

The Prophet: Yes.

Dalton: Listen buddy, you don't wanna make an enemy out of me. I've been working my way to Queen's favorite ever since the King died. If you think I'm just gonna let you take over in your first week, you got another thing coming.

The Prophet: I've got more important and enjoyable things to do then listen to you make pitiful threats.

Dalton: Pitiful? I'm the leader of Zeal's entire reserve task force! They could kill you in your sleep, and never get caught. So I would-

Dalton stopped. The hallway was not as it was before.

The hall now seemed endless, stretching as far as he could see. The walls and portraits were cut and faded. Someone had written the words "Don't let him" over a portrait of the Queen in blood. Outside, the lands were bleak and barren, with nothing but dust and withered remains of vegetation.

He felt something warm drip onto his face. Looking up, he saw that blood was drizzling from the ceiling, forming pools on the marble floor. He turned again to the Prophet. He seemed center in his sights, standing there with his robes strung over his relatively small frame. At his feet were dark, unmoving shapes Dalton couldn't make out.

The Prophet: For each man you send to kill me, I will bring you back a corpse.

The General blinked. The Prophet was gone and the hallway normal, but the image of his new rival standing in the Hellish ruins of their nation lingered in his mind.

And that's all for now. The next chapter will hopefully be finished and uploaded quickly. Again, please leave a review with your thoughts on the story. I'd love to hear from you...


	3. Chapter 3

Peace. I know this took a while. I had to re-locate after my town was hit by hurricane Rita. And then I was preoccupied with schoolwork and other writing projects. So now I finally get around to my main fan-fic for now... Hope people are still interested. It would suck if people lost interest simply because of my delayed entry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Zealians and the Mystics were opposite in almost every way.

The Prophet was in his room. He was in large velvet chair by his desk. There was a lantern set there, casting orange light onto him as he worked. He was in a casual position, legs stretched out, his body turned toward the center of the room. His scythe was in his hands, and he was running a stone along it's blade. The sound went through his chamber as he pondered.

He saw now the differences between the Mystic and Zealian society. Upon his first arrival, he didn't know what to think. The Mystics lived in villages and hunted and killed their food. Much of it seemed similar to what he'd read about savages in books. And they acted nothing like the calm, composed blue-bloods. As far as he had seen at that point in his life were the cold public face of the palace. Everyone was distinguished, be it the councilmen who worked making laws and drank fancy wines, or the hands who were taught humility from birth. He'd never seen the other things, like his mother's anger and impatience, or Dalton's drunken nights. The only truly human compassion he got was from his sister and to a lesser extent the Gurus who showed interest in what he was feeling.

Ironically, only when he was thrust into a society of monsters was he surrounded by human emotions. There were countless people in Ozzie's Palace that were so distinct they were like characters in books he'd read. Not the large volumes of historical monolouges and scientific laws, but the extremely rare novels which told tales of people doing extraordinary things. Distinct people that actually had faces and personalities.

Those people were everywhere in Ozzie's palace. Slash, the blue, balding war hero who claimed to be an honorable swordsman and would spout out cliched lines about bushido and such, but really just liked to party and play friendly games of poker. There was the egnimatic Flea, who would often try to act mysterious and shadowy, but was in fact a very rude woman who, while she was occasionally motherly and nice, usually just liked things her own way. Then there was Kaz, the tired, complaining Juggler that worked in the garden. The stupid, but very friendly Rolys that were used to pull carts and were taught tricks. The irritable Goblin that cleaned the floors and violently insisted that he would do nothing else. There was a very young, bright-eyed Imp named Ald who worked fetching water that many generals knew. And of course, there was Ozzie himself. The strategist and leader of the troopswho was awkwardly thrown into the role of fatherhood.

And from the day he arrived amongst these hideous beings, he was treated kindly. They somehow sensed that he was not a normal man, and they accepted him as one of them. Since he was brought to the palace by Ozzie, he was given support amongst these characters. Ozzie guided him along toward intelligence, having a strange liking to him. When he needed to be more comforting, he managed to do so, though it was difficult and rather awkward for him. Slash would try to tell the kid his rules about life, and tried to get him to drink long before he was old enough. Flea was uncharacteristically motherly toward him, and their relationship changed into a respectful one as he aged.

Then, slowly, as they saw him construct a whole castle for their society to inhabit in the span of a day, create servants from stone, and end droughts with a wave of his hand, they came to realize he was their savior.

Their actions and demeanor was not all that set them apart from the Zealians. Their way of life was uncivilized compared to the ascended ones, as they were messy eaters and very unclean phsyically. Ozzie in particular was a slob and when he was frightened he would make this pig-like squeal.

He briefly imagined Ozzie and his men in the Zealian palace, disgusting the blue-bloods. Now that he thought about it, from what he'd seen of the human society, there was a similarity in their mannerisms to the faceless Zealians. Not the least of which was their formal, strict way of speaking.

He put the stone onto the desk and clamped both of his palms on the sides of the blade. Focusing an electric spell, he used magnitizism to squash and stretch the metal, making it fine and sharp. For a flair, he tore at the bottom of the blade, making the edge jagged and sinister. Grinning, he stood up and spun it in his hands. Pulling it downward, he cut through the marble flooring, and carved the Mystic emblem into the ground.

The Mystics raised him, and it was through them he learned the skills necessary to be king. If he had to choose his life, there could only be Schala, but still, it was something to think about.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was a little bit chilly. The sun hadn't quite risen yet. There was a morning fog, making a blue haze over everything he could see. His feet were bare, and the dew on the grass was making his ankles numb.

Janus was in a field. A large field of grass, that stretched out into the fog. Shivering, he held his arms close to his body. Looking around, he spotted a shape in the fog. It appeared to be a person in a traveling cloak, gliding over the ground. The young prince perked up and began to wave toward the mysterious blur.

Janus: HEY! HEY!

The figure turns toward Janus.

Janus: Where am I?

The silohette moves forward out of the fog. As he becomes visible, he's shown to be tall and hooded. The hem of his robes reach his ankles. The hood reaches down his face. He continues to walk seemlessly over the ground, until he's right before the young prince.

Janus: W-Where are we? What is this place?

Suddenly, from behind him, Janus hears a ear-wrenching sound. A horrible screech sounded from the fog. It sounded like a great bird being tortured. Janus turned, and in the distance, he could see a blinking red light, coming in through the fog.

Janus: _(Panicked)_What was that?

He turned again, this time to look up at the hooded man. But as he did, there was something different about him. The hood that was covering him was pulled back, revealing him face. But there was no face. The surface where his face should be was completely smooth. There were no dips or curves where his nose or lips should be. Just a type of forboding flatness. But Janus took little notice of that. For there was another thing about his face, that made a chill run down his spine.

It was a mirror. It was as though a mirror was melted onto the surface of his face, and took it's form. In the early morning, the chilled hair fogged the mirror, making it look steamed and blurringJanus's reflection. Two trickles of water ran down the surface leaving streakswhich looked like tearlines.

Janus opened his eyes slowly. There was something wet on his cheek. Alfador was licking his face.

He reached up and scratched her. Turning, he sawthe morning light pour in through the windows. Must've been about Seven O' Clock.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Queen tapped her foot impatiently, looking at her plantinum pocket-watch. It was around Ten in the morning. Breakfast was over, but other then the Prophet and Dalton, nobody had yet to show up to the Council's chambers. Turning in her throne, she looked over at the Oracle.

Zeal: Where are they?

The Prophet: I'm not sure. It's not like Melchoir to be late, is it?

Zeal: Well, I hope they don't think I'm waiting around all day for them. If they're not here in ten minutes, I'm going into that laboratory whether Belthasar likes it or not.

There was a pause. Standing opposite sides of the throne, they turned to look at glance at each other over the Queen's head. Dalton gazed hard at the part of the hood that he was sure the Prophet's eyes were behind. He squinted, hoping to see something beyond the simple threads of silk.

The trio looked up, though, as the door opened and two new forms walked into the room. Gaspar and Belthasar look fairly tired, but otherwise fit. The Queen stood up and stared down at them angrilly.

Zeal: Where have you been? Do you have any idea how rude it is to keep us waiting?

Belthasar takes out a hankerchif and wipes his face.

Belthasar: Milady, please understand, we were coming down when Melchoir's leg started bothering him. We had to help him down to his chambers before we could make our way here.

Zeal: So Melchoir won't be coming, eh?

Gaspar: Um... No M'am. He's lying down for a bit now.

Zeal: Oh, well. His loss. Let's head down, then.

Gaspar: But Highness, shouldn't we wait for the Princess?

Zeal: Schala won't be joining us. She's taking little Janus to see the Earthbounds.

The Queen walks down from her throne as the other council members followed. Shemoves toward the side of the council room and to a large sliding door. Reaching into a pocket in her robes, she takes out aslinder ruby key, which she uses to unlock the door. It slides upwards and the council walks inside. Upon the floor in the room is a large square platform, a spell circle taking up almost its entire surface. A spherical jewel about the size of a globe is embedded in its center.

The Prophet: _(Under breath, to Gaspar)_ I don't believe I've ever seen this room before.

Gaspar: _(Under breath)_ It's the royal skyway. Connects to all three cities.

Following the Queen, they step into the circle. Her highness looks toward the jewel, whose color is slowly shifting though the light spectrum.

Zeal: Kajar.

The jewel begins to glow, and the room around them is encompassed in a white light. The light becomes brighter and soon walls and floors are indestinguishable from each other. Only those in the circle can be seen in an endless void. The void slowly vanishes, and the room becomes visible once more.

The Prophet blinks. He could tell by the vibrations they were in Kajar, but the rooms they yet between were identical. They must've been built that way by design. Yet the transferance seemed quite different from that of a normal skyway. Typically you could see what was around you and one had the sensation that you were being flung toward your destination.

Before he could ponder this any further, the group started moving again. The queen unlocked the nearby door, which released them into the bustle of Kajar. They headed down the halls of the city, as people turned and bowed at their passing. The Prophet noticed what looked like a small magizine stand tucked into a corner. The Nu was at the counter, leaning forward and a trickle of drool coming out of it's mouth.

As they passed the Nu's counter, they entered the Central Research room. Several minor scientists were gathered around tables, tinkering with minor objects and accessories. But they passed them all by and went toward a dark blue door toward the back. On it's surface was a white sign where it said in bright red letters "Critical Testing Area: Authorized Personel Only".

Zeal: Belthasar.

The guru moved to the front of the group, reaching into his pocket as he did so. He took out a small keyring. There were only three keys on it, and two of them were very tiny. But one was quite long and seemed to be made of solid silver. Belthasar placed it in a keyhole on the side of the door.A loudnoise of a gear turning came from the wall.

The door slid open. Shoving the Guru out of the way, the Queen dashed into the room, her four campanions hurrying after her.

The room was round with a ceiling that reached to an almost dizzying height. It's walls and floor were a strange oraganish-red. Lights were scattered along the floor and walls making a soft glow to the room, broken by workers rushing by using welders and magnetic irons. But the true sight of the room was what was at its center.

Almost all the space in the room is taken up by a towering sculpture. It looked like a four-stories tall trapizoid with its wider edge toward the ceiling.. But the edges were slightly curved, giving it a strange appearance. Several portions of it had it's outer surface removed revealing a complicated system of wires inside. In the center, slightly protruding from the surface of the machine, there was what looked like a poorly sculpted face. The whole machine gave the image of being rather bulky and combersome, yet it the soft light of the room, the face looked slightly forboding.

Zeal: It's beautiful.

The rest of the group slowly moved around the queen, all of them looking up at the gargantuan creation before them.

Dalton: _That's _the Mammoth Machine?

Belthasar: The prototype, yes.

Zeal: My god, it's beautiful.

There was a pause.

Gaspar: Um... how much energy did you say it would produce Belthasar?

Belthasar: Somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.5 Gigawatts, we estimate.

Gaspar: (Slightly shocked) Th-That much? That's eight sun stones worth of power.

Zeal: What about the completed version? How much will that make?

Belthasar: It's hard to tell at this point, but we believe it may be around 6 or 7 Gigawatts. But that's before it's directly connected to Lavos through the Ocean Palace. We're not certain how much we might gain then.

The queen looked up at the machine hungrily.

Zeal: Do you know when it'll be done?

Belthasar: Judging by the reports of Dreamstone mining that Melchoir gave me, we think it'll be done in about a month.

Zeal: Excellent. Excellent.

Her eyes glaze over as she stares at the prototype.

Zeal: One month.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He had never seen a place like this one.

He had seen the three cities of Zeal. He had been taken down the river that fell off the continent's edge. Schala had taken him to see Gaspar's studies, Melchoir's forge, and on one occasion Belthasar's laboratory. But there was nothing quite like this.

The first thing he noticed was the cold. Once he stepped out of the skyway, an insane and furious frozen wind sliced into every cell of his body. On the Zealian continent, he could get a little chilly at times, but it was nothing like this. It seemed to be everywhere. Forming icicles on his face, frosting his eyes, and whipping down his throat into the pit of his stomach. Schala bent down and wrapped a blanket around his small shoulders, and they moved on.

They headed through the white, cold, sloppy substance (The "snow" which had been in his books), and into a large cave nearby. Inside the cave was slightly less chilly, but not enough to be truly warm. It felt has through he was trying to hide from it, but just couldn't get away. There was ladder leading upwards to a level overlooking the entrance. From there a door that was little more then a hole in the cave wall.

The next sight disturbed him greatly. The main chamber of the cave was a large tunnel with levels that slowly slanted downwards like a staircase. The walls and ceiling seemed to be nothing but solid, packed dirt made years ago. On the floors of the entire village were dead plants and vegetation, with live insects scurrying underneath and on top of leaves. There was a very horrible smell in the air, but he didn't want to think of what it was.

The people looked even lower then their land. They were all dressed in the same brown, ragged tunics, hair wild and dusty. Their eyes had dark circles beneath them, and all of them had a skinny, generally starved look about them. They all seemed to know Schala, and they smiled and waved at her as she went by. Feeling out of place, Janus kept holding his sister's hand and stayed close to her.

Schala led Janus down a ladder to the second level of the cave. She then took him to a room nearby. Whoever lived here must've had more status then others. A small curtain of moss had been hung in front of the door, giving the inhabitant a bit of privacy. Schala pulled back the curtain and she and Janus walked inside.

Schala: Mister Wormwood? Are you home?

An old man was sitting at a table made of rotting wood. He turned and grinned at them.

Wormwood: Ah, miss Schala. What brings you here?

Schala: I wanted to tell you about how much mother loves the progress you're making.

Wormwood: Really? She's pleased is- Oh, who's this young gentlemen?

Wormwood had just noticed Janus, who was half-hidden behind Schala's legs.

Schala: This is my brother Janus.

Schala moved bent down and moved Janus so he could be seen properly.

Schala: Don't be like that, Janus. Say "Hi".

Janus would have much rather stayed hidden.He found thisdirty, disgusting cave, disturbing and it was awkward just lookingat this strange old man. But he gave a small bow anyway.

Janus: Um... Hello, sir...

The old man chuckled showing a set of yellowed, decaying teeth.

Wormwood: So, you're young master Janus that Schala's told me about. You're much older then she described. Would you care for some tea, Miss Schala?

Schala: No, I'm not going to be here for long.

Schala took a seat with Wormwood on a wooden table. Janus followed her lead and seated himself as well.

Schala: Mother's so happy about all the progress you've been making with the Dreamstone mining.

Wormwood: Really?

Schala: Oh, yes. She's really excited about how well things are going for the Mammoth Machine project. I think she may start cutting your work hours now.

Wormwood: That would be good. The men can't work twelve hour days much longer. Even with those tools you've been giving us, it's still hard.

Schala: I know. That's why...

Schala voice began to fade out to Janus. He was beginning to her muffled voices behind him. He turned his head in his seat to see a large number of Earthbound people gathered around the curtain, looking in at them.

Earthbound Voice: Miss Schala's back.

Earthbound Voice: I didn't know she was coming today.

Earthbound Voice: Me neither. Who's that boy, though?

Earthbound Voice: Is that supposed to be her brother? What's his name?

Earthbound Voice: Janus. Yeah, Janus. I heard the supervisors from up on the continent talking about him. They said he can't do magic.

Earthbound Voice: He can't do magic? Why's he up with the Enlightened at all? Why isn't he down here with us?

Feeling a little confused by this, Janus decided it was best to turn back to Schala and Wormwood, who had continued their conversation unhindered by gossip or bystanders.

Wormwood: By the way, as long as you're down here, would you mind doing something for me?

Schala: Sure, what is it?

Wormwood stood up and walked over to a dirty old set of drawers. He opened up the topmost one and took out a small, white cardboard box about the size of his fist. There was a tiny brown string tying it together.

Wormwood: I need you to give this to Melchoir for me. It's so hard for him to come down here himself, with the cold and his leg, you know...

Wormwood walked back toward the table and handed the box to the girl.

Schala: I'll be glad to give it to him. What is it?

Wormwood: Oh, just a little gift from all of us for all the work he does to help us out. Please, just give it to him with our thanks.

Schala: I'll give it to him as soon as we get back.

Schala puts the box into her robes and turns to her brother.

Schala: Ready?

They were leaving alot sooner then Janus expected. Slightly surprised, he blinks at his sister for a moment.

Janus: What? Oh, um... yeah.

He turns to the old man across from them and gives another small bow.

Janus: Thanks for having us, sir.

Wormwood: My pleasure, young man. Come back anytime.

They stood and Wormwood walked them to the "door". Janus was still feeling confused and disoriented, but very glad to leave.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

As Janus and Schala were bringing themselves down into the caves of the Earthbound, Alfador was sunning herself on a patch of light from a window in some large hallway of the palace.

It was quite nice, she thought, to lie here and wait for her master's return. Her master had gone somewhere with his sister, and she understood it was not fit for her to follow. It did concern her though, that his sister would bring him somewhere she couldn't go. The master almost never went anywhere without her companionship. He didn't seem to fancy the thought of her not being at his side.

It was strange of course. While most of her race were independent, she was quite bound to her master. She felt a strong and powerful bond that transcended the traditional affection that cats had. It was not unheard of, she reasoned. She recalled an older cat kept by the master's father. She was only a kitten when it died, but it also had a connection to her master that Alfador felt was similar. But that didn't matter right now, she reasoned, as she rolled over in the sunlight. Her master would be home soon and it a nice time to relax until his return.

Suddenly, she rose to attention, ears up. There was the sudden scent upon the air of her master nearby. She strained her superior ears and heard footsteps. She stood and trotted over toward the source of the scent. Quickly passing by numerous others, she turned a corner, only to find a slight surprise.

It was the other master. The older one.

Strangely enough, in the past few days another, larger version of her master had been walking around the palace. She hadn't gotten the opportunity to get close to this other master by any means, and the matter of him had been interesting her for some time. There was more to it then the fact of there being another incarnation of her master walking around- one larger and much more solitary, but it also seemed to provide insight for her strange relationship with him.

The fact of it was, though she knew that she was her master, she wasn't identifying him by any of her senses. He was much larger then her master, and while she hadn't seen his face, she doubted it mattered as humans almost always looked the same. When she had heard him speak, his voice was soft like the other master, but much deeper and it had a certain regal, commanding edge to it. The scents of her two masters had only the slightest of similarities. The base scents of their bodies were the same, but this new incarnation also had the rather disturbing scents of wild grass, cold metal, stone, human blood, fire, and most strangely, livestock animals on him. He did share similarities with his younger self, as he also had scents of water, old parchment, and soft bedsheets, but still...

Alfador padded over to the other master, who had stopped in front of a large marble door. She let out a meow, and the robed figure looked down at her.

There was a pause in the hallway. He continued to stare down at her, seemingly deliberating something. He turnedto look up and down the hall. Some distance away two maids were casually gossiping to one another. A second after he spotted them, a large oil painting fell from the wall, and they busilly scrampled to get it up again.

As they did so, he unlocked the door and opened it, Alfador slipping in at his feet. Once both were inside, he sweeped around and locked the door.

He then turned to Alfador and pulled back his hood. The skin on his face was pale and grey like a dead man's, with large crows feet under his eyes. His blue hair seemed slightly paler, and it was pulled backward, reaching past his shoulders. His ears had inexplicably pointed themselves, like an elf while his purple eyes seemed smaller and colder. He looked down at Alfador, and grinned, showing small fangs in his teeth.

The Prophet: My little kitten.

Alfador meowed happily as her master sat down in a wooden chair by his desk. She leapt into his lap, and put one of her paws onto his chest, standing up slightly. The Prophet put his gloved hand on her back and scratched, when she bit his hand playfully. He laughed.

The Prophet: Not one for leather, eh? Well...

He withdrew his hand and began to pull off his gloves.

The Prophet: Seeing you opens old wounds. A little taste of all that I'll gain soon.

He brought his hand back, and began to scratch her. This time though, he was met with purring.

The Prophet: Just between you and me, things are going to get very different around here. I'll be king soon, as I was meant to be. Once my revenge is carried out Zeal won't have that horrid woman as a ruler.

Alfador began pushing her head against The Prophet's hand as he scratched her.

The Prophet: To be honest, I'm rather surprised you recognized me. I can't possibly have the exact same scent as before, can I?

He peers down at the animal in his lap.

The Prophet: I wonder...

Alfador stops rubbing against his hand and looks up at him curiously.

The Prophet: Could it be that you're my familiar? Could we have become connected after feeling so close to each other for so long?

The Prophet puts a hand to his chin in thought.

The Prophet: I did have magical powers as a boy, even if they were dormant... It is possible... But it does not matter.

He began to scratch Alfador again.

The Prophet: You are my cat and you have my love. That is what matters.

Not too shabby, eh? More descriptions then dialouge this time, I think... Still, not a bad chapter, if I do say so myself. Please, leave a review of your thoughts. I'd love to hear from you...


	4. Chapter 4

Hello. Lance again. Here to talk to you a little about reviews. Yes, reviews. The main subject- Where are they?

I've been looking at the status of Chronicles via my Membership page, and I can't help but see that there's a decent number of hits to this thing. I'd say I've got at least half a dozen steady readers judging from the numbers. But in spite of this, I only have six reviews so far. Andthree of them are from the sameguy (Tetsukon, my eternal gratitude).

Now what the hell, man? For you to have read to chapter four (which youhave already done), you clearly like the fic! I'd hate to badger but why don't you reveiw? Are you aware that as you sit reading yet another nice chapter I've put up for you (however late it may be), I sit wondering if I suck or not, and if I should even continue to write this damn thing? And that these feelings of writing anxiety could be eased quite easily if you took the time to type "Hey dude, nice job." Or do you _**ENJOY**_ having me suffer?

I'm sorry. (flattens tie) I allowed my insecurities to disturb you. Please, don't leave because of my rudeness. Continue reading.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Schala: Janus? Are you in here?

Schala creeked open the door to Janus's room. The boy was sitting at his desk putting his shoes on, Alfador sitting on the rug in front of him.

Janus: Ne-Chan?

Schala: I was hoping I could catch you before you went to class.

Janus: Something wrong?

Schala: No. Just wanted to talk.

Schala stretches her arms above her head and leans against a wall nearby.

Schala: Now that I don't have administrative classes anymore, I have alot of free time on my hands. Maybe I should go with Melchoir and visit Wormwood.

Janus: Are they old friends or something?

Schala: What? Oh, no. I think Melchoir knew Wormwood's father, and he helped Wormwood as he grew up.

Janus blinked.

Janus: But... Wormwood looks like he's as old as Melchoir.

Schala: Yes, well...

Schala pauses, apparently choosing her words.

Schala: The Earthbounders... just don't live as long as we do.

Janus: Why not? Because they're Earthbounders?

Schala: There's that... but also because they don't get as much medicine as they may need. And... they don't exactly have the healthiest livestyle, working in dusty mines all day and night...

Janus reached for his schoolbooks quietly. He tucked them under his arm and stood up.

Janus: I um... I better go.

Schala: Okay, then.

Janus walks out the door, Schala and Alfador following behind him. Schala closes the door behind her, and she turns and waves as she heads down the hallway.

Schala: Have a good day, Janus.

Janus waves at her shyly as she leaves.

Janus: You too, Ne-chan.

He turns and moves off in the opposite direction, Alfador at his heels. It was early on a Monday morning, and this particular hallway was mostly empty. She spotted a pair of maids who apparently had the day off. They were standing by a window chattering loudly, each holding a small child in her arms. He heard their low voices as he passed them.

Maid 1: Look at that. Is that little boy the prince?

Maid 2: Oh, did you here what Sandra was saying about him?

Maid 1: I know. And Sandra's always so reliable. You know her husband works for the temple?

Janus kept his eyes in front of him, trying not to overhear their conversation. He continued down the hall until he reached a large wooden door, which he quietly opened. Inside the next room, there were a few large windows along the walls, with bookshelves stacked between them. Near the center of a room was a small wooden table stewn with a small number of objects. Janus laid his books down on the table and took a seat. Alfador hopped onto one of the windowsills and laid in the sun.

The two of them sat there for some time, waiting for their teacher. It was odd though. Janus could typically just walk in to find one of the Gurus, usually Gaspar, sitting there waiting for him. But today there was nobody here. The thought made him slightly uneasy. He was beginning to wonder if he even had class today when the door opened and Dalton entered.

Janus stared at him as he stumbled in. He looked ill, he thought. He was leaning on the doorframe for support, and one of his hands was clutching his head. His eye was red.

Dalton: Oh, good, you're already here. I hope they didn't expect me to go fetch you if you were late.

He staggered over and took the seat opposite of Janus. After sitting down he propped his elbows onto the table and held his head in his hands.

Dalton: Okay, let's get this over with...

The General looked to the window and saw Alfador bathing herself.

Dalton: You bring your cat to your classes?

Janus: Yeah, she... y'know, she doesn't bother anyone...

Dalton: Uh-huh. Right.

Janus: But um... shouldn't one of the Gurus be here?

Dalton glared at Janus through his bloodshot eye.

Dalton: The Queen is holding an emergency conference with the Gurus regarding the Mammoth Machine. She said I could teach you today.

Janus: But shouldn't you be at the council meeting?

Dalton stood up suddenly, the wooden chair falling on the ground behind him. His eye widened in anger as he glared down at the boy.

Dalton: That isn't a council meeting. She's just getting a report from a bunch of old geezers and the idiot in the cape! What are you saying, boy?

Janus: Nothing it's just-

Dalton: Are you implying that I shouldn't be on the council? That three senile codgers and a foreigner could do more for the country then the General of the all-mighty Zealian Guard?

Dalton panted as Janus brought his head down sheepishly.

Dalton: That's what I thought.

Dalton picked up his chair and took his seat. He put his face back into his hands and began to massage his forehead.

Dalton: Okay, what do you usually do here?

Janus: Uh... Normally I just sit here and practice magic...

Dalton: Oh, right...

He begins to look around at the objects upon the table.

Dalton: They're are all pretty basic, though... Uh... shit, let's see.

Dalton picks up a soft plastic ball. It's giving off a weak glow. The General squeezes it and then drops it in front of Janus.

Dalton: Yeah, uh... do that color change thing.

With a sense of coming dread, Janus nodded. He picked up the ball in his hands and closed his eyes.

Whenever he asked anybody what it felt like to do magic, he always got roughly the same answer, and it never helped him perform any spells of his own. No matter how many times he asked for advice, he was always stuck in the same place.

Inside the bodies of all Enlightened is a magical core, intuned to the waves and vibrations of the world around it. It was once theorized that the core existed in each indivisual blood cell, but upon close inspection, the core did not exist anywhere within the physical structure of those that possessed it. This failure of any known science to detect it led to the current theory that the core was a part of the human soul. The theory was accepted by the Zealian populace, and increased hostilities to the Earthbound, as it labeled their souls as unclean.

When one usually casts magic, he senses the core within his chest. He then manipulates it, and pulls "Treads" of magical energy off the surface. The sorceror then channels it into his hands and forces it to have the effect he desires.

Janus's problem though, wasn't the lack of a magical core. It wasn't that at all. Even before he was given lessons in magic, he could feel it in his center, burning hotter and brighter then one thousand brilliant blue stars. The gargantuan supernova inside him only seemed to be growing larger and bolder as time went on, to the point where he was aware of it all through the day, not just through concentration.

However, when he tried to rip small threads or flares off it's surface, he found it was impossible. The core seemed to have its own gravity, drawing every ounce of energy onto itself and refusing to be torn apart. Some force was keeping it bound together and whole, despite the Prince's best efforts to borrow from it.

Several moments passed in the sun-filled room as Janus concentrated, trying fruitlessly to change the color of the ball in his hands.

Dalton: This is just sad.

Janus looks up.

Janus: What?

Dalton: For god's sake, kids do this crap at three. You're seven and you have a hard time?

Janus: I-It's just um...

Dalton: _(smirk) _I recall you saying you could actually do magic.

Janus: I can... just...

Dalton: Just not the utterly simple spells. Of course.

Still smirking, Dalton turned sideways in his chair. But his smirk vanished quickly as he heard birds twittering outside on a nearby tree branch. The simple and soft noise echoed into his hammered brain. But between the sensations of pain pulsating like heartbeats through the General's skull, he was gathering increasingly bitter thoughts.

It's not like it was a _real _council meeting or anything like that. Just those idiots giving a progress report. Why should he care? It didn't matter. It didn't affect the military in the slightest.

But still...

The Prophet was there. Why? Why him? And while on the subject, why was a decorated leader of all armed forces in Zeal's great nation busy babysitting a boy who couldn't preform the simplest of spells?

The feelings of anger quickly overpowered the pain in his head. He stood up.

Dalton: Y'know what, you can probably continue on your own, right?

Janus: You're leaving?

Dalton: Yeah. I gotta go. I'm not accomplishing anything here anyway.

Dalton strided quickly to the door, but before stepping through it, turning to the boy sitting at the table.

Dalton: You better get moving with those spells if you wanna stay here, y'know. Get someone who actually knows how to teach you, kid.

Janus: W-What?

Dalton: What do you mean what? Think about it.

Dalton took a step away from the door to address the child better.

Dalton: If you can't do magic, why should you be in Zeal at all?

Janus shrank back in his chair. The General's words were beginning to disturb him.

Janus: Where else is there but Zeal?

Dalton: _(Rolls eye) _The Earthbound continent. Obviously.

The one-eyed man turned to leave.

Janus: Wait!

Dalton: What is it now?

Janus bowed his head slightly at Dalton's impatient glare.

Janus: Is... is that why they have to live in that place? Because they can't do magic?

Dalton: Yeah... You didn't even know that?

Janus shook his head.

Dalton: Pft. Our mighty Prince.

Dalton walks out, leaving Janus alone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal: What?

The eldest of the gurus shrank back from the throne.

Belthasar: It's even a very big delay. I mean, two weeks... I-It's nothing at all, really.

Zeal: What?

Melchoir: Now Milady, be reasonable. These things happen.

Zeal: **_What?_**

Gaspar: There's no need to make a big deal about this, highness. Things are still going along just fine.

Zeal: This is unacceptable, Belthasar!

Face scarlet, the Queen rose from her holy seat and brushed past her cowled advisor. She soon stood on the step above the blue magi, looking enraged.

Zeal: One month?

Belthasar: Yes, Milady but-

Zeal: You said that two weeks ago! That just doesn't add up, Belthasar!

Belthasar: Well, that was based on the current progress code at that time, but things have been sort of slowing down a bit so...

Zeal: Why? What's the cause?

Belthasar: Just I... Lack of morale amongst my workers, I suppose.

Zeal narrows her eyes threateningly.

Zeal: Can you handle this, or shall I have some guards increase the morale their own way?

Belthasar: No, no! It's fine milady. I-I'm sure I can get the project back on sechdule.

There is a pause in the council room.

Zeal: I won't take another delay like this, Guru. If you can't finish the Mammoth Machine on time, I'll find another genius who can.

The man began to wipe his brow with a hankercheif.

Belthasar: Of course, madam...

Gaspar: Good to see you're so patient with things, milady.

Zeal: Right. Well, that's all for now. I'll see you in three days to see how you're catching up, Belthasar.

Belthasar: Three days?

Zeal: Is there a problem, Magi?

Belthasar: Of course not, madam. Of course not...

Zeal: I thought not.

Zeal begins to exit the council room, the Prophet trailing behind her like a ghost.

Zeal: Come now, my dear. I think I could use a good drink.

They quickly make their leave, and the Gurus remain in the council room alone.

Melchoir: _She _needs a drink? What about us?

Belthasar sits down on the steps to the throne, still running the hankercheif against his face.

Belthasar: Oh, my friend, I need much more then a drink. I need... some morphine... I could put some in the drinking water at the lab...

Melchoir: I told you two there was no patience in the world, but you didn't believe me.

Gaspar: Oh God, that wasn't pretty... She... she really looked fit to kill, didn't she?

Belthasar: I didn't know she'd get so angry with us. The Sun Stones must be running out of power faster then we thought.

Gaspar: No, we should have um...

Gaspar takes a folder out of his coat.

Gaspar: A good six months before we reach the point where we'd need to start conserving energy.

Melchoir: Well, she's the Queen. Maybe she's just concerned for her people.

Belthasar: That better be the reason. I don't want to get screamed at and nearly have a heart attack simply because it's that time of the month for her.

Belthasar pauses.

Belthasar: The fact that I said that never leaves the room.

Melchoir: Good call. The Queen's angry enough.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal: ...In fact, make it a double.

The Prophet: I'll just have a tea, please.

The two were seated at a table on a sun-soaked balcony overlooking the main garden of the palace. Behind them, there was a chamber where many council members and blue-bloods came to chat and converse. Beside them a servant was taking down their orders for drinks. He quickly bowed and walked away. The Queenturned to the robed figure across from her.

Zeal: So like I was saying, if we're not firm, they'll just lax off, then we won't get anything done.

The Prophet: Still, we can't overly heckle Belthasar, or he may start resenting it.

Zeal: Think we should postpone our next check-up?

The Prophet: Perhaps not right away but after the first check we should increase the space between them, understand what I'm saying?

Zeal: Of course, dear, of course.

She leans forward, smiling across the table at her advisor.

Zeal: You know, Prophet, since your introduction, we haven't been able to talk about much other then business.

The Prophet turns, and spots Schala walking into the chamber.

The Prophet: Ah, her young highness.

Zeal: Schala dear, over here.

The Queen waves to her daughter, who then hurries to the balcony.

Schala: Mother, Prophet. I wasn't expecting to see you here.

Zeal: Well, we had some free time on our hands after our little meeting with the Gurus. Sit down, dearie, we'll get you a drink.

Schala blinks as she lowers herself into a seat. The Queen takes the handle of a small silver bell on the table and gives it a ring.

Schala: You had a meeting with the Gurus?

Zeal: Yes, dear.

The Prophet: We needed a progress report for the new Mammoth Machine and it resulted in some changes in the funding for all three of their projects.

Schala: But... shouldn't I have been present?

Zeal: Don't be silly dear, it didn't concern you at all. Oh, here we are.

A servant had appeared behind them, again holding a pad and pencil.

Zeal: Maybe we should get you some wine.

Schala: I-I'm fourteen, mother.

Zeal: But you're so mature, dear. I'm sure you can have a_ little _bit of wine.

Schala: I think I'd prefer some tea, really.

Waiter: Two teas, one double burbon.

The waiter walks away, quickly as he'd come.

Schala: I'm still a little surprised a council meeting went on without me.

Zeal: Schala, how can you say that? You know I wouldn't hold a full council meeting without my own daughter there. This was just a little progress report. You probably have better things to do on your day off then sit around with your mother and her friends.

Schala: Well... It just doesn't feel like I'm doing much in the council.

The Prophet: Well, you haven't been at it long, have you?

Schala turns to look at the cowled man beside her.

The Prophet: Someone can't expect to learn the ropes from simply those classes. I'm sure once you've seen how everything works in politics, things will change for you.

Schala: You haven't been here that long, and you seem to be making a huge difference.

The Prophet: Well, I'm older then you are, and I've had alot of experience with politics before. Someone as young as yourself needs patience to know what we do.

Zeal: Exactly. Just give it time, dear.

A servant suddenly appeared beside them, carrying a tray. He set down the cups of tea before the Prophet and princess, before setting a shot glass in front of her highness, who quickly downs it. He vanishes quickly.

Schala: It's a little early, don't you think, mother?

Zeal: Don't worry, dear. A small one never hurt me.

Schala: I suppose... Sugar, sir?

The Prophet: No, thank you.

Schala: Gaspar wanted to talk to you earlier, Prophet. Did you hear?

The Prophet: Hm?

Zeal: Ugh. Are the Gurus bothering you? Their time's best spent elsewhere.

The Prophet: No, it's just we've been doing some extensive discussion involving one of his books.

Zeal: Oh, really? Which one?

The Prophet: His last one. The time and space study.

Zeal: I remember hearing that book barely sold at all.

Schala: Yes, it was rather complicated. I couldn't really follow it. It was different for him, that text-book kind of thing.

The Prophet: I didn't find it too complex. Some of the events described in it seem quite plausible.

Schala: I still liked his earlier books. Espicially the one about the Earthbound settlement acts.

The Prophet: Really?

Zeal: I never truly cared for his books, myself. Historical documents never struck my interest.

The Prophet thinks and sets down his tea.

The Prophet: Perhaps I'll go for a walk.

Schala: Would you mind if I joined you?

There's a pause as the cowled being blinks in the direction of the princess.

The Prophet: Not at all.

Zeal: I suppose I'll see you both later then.

The Prophet: 'Course.

The oracle bows his head.

The Prophet: Majesty.

Schala: Goodbye, mother.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It could've have been true, could it?

No. Of course not. Look at the source. It was exactly the kind of thing he'd say to scare him. Seemed he was seeing much of Dalton recently. He remembered hearing a few maids talking about him being demoted from General. Just what he'd deserve, too.

But as much as he tried not to think about it, the Earthbounders lacked something. They weren't as radiant as the Zealian people. It wasn't just the dirt either- the Enlighted would glow with a slight brilliance. And he noticed that those creatures he saw in that cave didn't have the radiant colors of the Zealians hair and eyes. Their hairs were all a plain straw-yellow or a lame brown, while their eyes were an unstriking gray.

What would he look like there? Once prince, once heir, sitting among the dirt and weeds? Violet eyes and aqua hair all that seperates him from those who had been here all their lives? Toiling in the mines with screaming muscles and dusty lungs? Holding his elbows every second of the day for fear of the cold?

No. He was the Prince. He would be king one day. They wouldn't do that to him. They _couldn't _do that to him.

The idea still screamed in his mind. He still thought about that horrible piece of Earth his sister showed him, the chill in the air coming back to haunt him in the present and freezing each cell of his body.

In his bed up in hisroom, Janus clung the sheets around him tighter, sealing in all warmth humanly possible and he edged closer to Alfador.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

In the perfect fields of Zeal, amongst the tweeting birds and swaying wild flowers walked the Princess and the Prophet. Side-by-side under the sun they slowly converse over events.

The Prophet: I was surpised you liked "From Cattle to Men" so much.

Schala: What?

The Prophet: Gaspar's book. I expected you would have likedhis biography on your father more.

Schala: Well, when you know someone personally, biographies don't really have much appeal.

The Prophet: I don't follow.

Schala: Since Ilived with dad, and I know what he was like, just reading short stories about things he told me about seems rather dull. Biographies can only go into so much detail, so it's nothing like knowing him.

The Prophet: Oh, I see.

There was a pause.

The Prophet: I never knew his highness.

Schala: He was wonderfull. I think he'd have liked you. He really enjoyed the company of intelligent people.

The Prophet: I understand he was quite frightening.

Schala pondered this for a second.

Schala: Sometimes. When he wanted to be. He could really become imposing when he was mad. But usually he was great. He always seemed to be able to make time for me. Walks in the park, tea parties, that kind of thing.

There is another pause as Schala looks off in thought.

Schala: I really wish Janus could've known him.

The Prophet: People say you were the apple of his eye. But most say that if he lived, he wouldn't have thought much of your brother.

Schala shakes her head.

Schala: Most people don't know what a great boy Janus is. And father thought very highly of Janus before he died. He'd sit in his nursery and just hold him for long spans of time, rocking back and forth.

The Prophet bows his head in thought.

The Prophet: I see...

They continue onward in silence.

The Prophet: A sad thing indeed, his death.

Schala: You're alot like him, come to think of it.

The Prophet: Pardon?

Schala: I hadn't noticed it before, but the way you act and talk... it's just like what he was.

The Prophet: You must be mistaken.

Schala: No, you have this regal, intellictual air that he had.

The Prophet: I'm sure many people in the palace have that, highness.

Schala: No, no. It's not something you can just find anywhere... Would you mind if I looked at your face?

A tiny look of worry came upon the Prophet's face, hidden by his robe.

The Prophet: For what reason, Princess?

Schala: You sort of sound similar as well, so I thought I might compare faces.

The Prophet: I'd really feel more comfortable like this.

Schala: I just wanna...

Schala reaches slowly for the hood of The Prophet, who draws back.

The Prophet: Please don't.

Schala pauses, then brings her hand back.

Schala: I'm sorry. If it bothers you...

The Prophet: I'm... just a little self-conscious right now. Maybe after I've gotten used to Zeal.

Schala: I understand.

There is a silence as they stand and stare at each other. They then begin walking again.

Schala: You never told me what your homeland is like.

The Prophet: What?

Schala: The land beyond Zeal. What're the people there like?

The Prophet: They're friendly, kind. But at the same time, quite savage and uncivilized.

Schala: When you go back, may I come with you?

The Prophet stares.

Schala: I want to see what they're like. I'm sure it'll be great.

The Prophet: I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going back.

Schala: You're not?

The Prophet: No. I've given up on my life there.

Schala: But... but what about you friends there?

After a pause, the robed man speaks once again.

The Prophet: I had friends there, true... but there's something Zeal has to offer that I can't get there.

Schala: What is it?

The Prophet smiles, as they both walk in the fields soaked in the brilliant Zealian sun.

The Prophet: Something wonderfull.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Still sitting in solitary thought on the balcony table, the Queen watched as her child mingled with the Oracle.

She began to wonder what they were talking about. She would've liked for Schala to take a liking for the Prophet, it fit in well for her. And she was sure her daughter won't pursue him romantically, because shekew that he was much too old for her.

She smiled. But he was just old enough for-

Dalton: Highness! Hello!

The Queen sighed as Dalton approached and took a seat.

Zeal: General, I thought you were tutoring Janus.

Dalton: Oh, we finished early, m'am. And I felt guilty about my missing your meeting with the Gurus.

Zeal: Don't feel guilty, General. It had nothing to do with the military at all. It only concerned the progress the Gurus were making.

Dalton: Of course, highness, of course.

Dalton hesitates before speaking again.

Dalton: However, the Prophet seemed to merit an invitation.

Zeal: He is my personal advisor, and thanks to him construction of the Mammoth Machine is going much smoother then it would naturally.

Dalton: I uh... I see Milady...

A short silence passes at the table before Zeal speaks up, annoyed.

Zeal: General, was there something you wanted to talk with me about?

Dalton: What? Oh, of course, Majesty, of course...

Dalton's mind preformed a short scample for a matter of such importance to seek out the Queen. There was a moment of mass panic through the General's head, but he managed to find a suitable topic.

Dalton: The Prince, Milday.

Zeal: Little Janus? What about him?

Dalton: While I was tutoring him, I found he was unable to cast the most simple of spells. Seeing how he's the prince, don't you think this should concern us?

Zeal: _(Curtly) _I've discussed this with the Gurus. They give me their assurance that it'll pass.

Dalton: But he's already seven and he can't casteven basicspells, highness. Maybe we should rethink the boy's future.

The Queen gives out a great, irritated sigh, as she reaches up to rub her brow.

Zeal: General Dalton, I'm far too busy with the Mammoth Machineto focus on Janus's future prospects right now. I can't just put it all on hold for this topic.

Dalton: I see... What about after the completion of the Prototype? Could we talk then?

Zeal: We'll see. Now is there anything else you wanted from me?

Dalton: Um... No, milady. Nothing at all.

Zeal: Then leave me. Go drill the guard or something. I need to be alone now.

Dalton: Right away, Highness! So sorry!

Dalton slowly backed away from the balcony, leaving the Queen alone with her thoughts once more.

Yes, the Prophet was certainly fitting right in.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Soon enough, the day had ended and a starry, soothing night descended on the kingdom. The white lights of the came on to illuminate the halls of the palace, the Gurus parted ways. Belthasar fetched the Nu and they headed off toward Ehnasa. Probably to talk privately in the security of The Reason Guru's secret room. Melchoir said he had some things to do involving a gift from the Earthbounds. Gaspar planned on doing some light reading before he went to bed.

But it was not a book from the library he read, as he sat in his restfull room. Janus had filled his dream journal. Gaspar flipped through the pages carefully, paying attention to the illustrations and descriptions.

It was interesting, he thought, that Janus would have such a large number of dreams about monsters. A one-eyed, scaley monster seemed to appear quite often. Did that signify that monsters were in his future? Beasts of ill-fortune and hardship? It was certainly plausible. Men of Royal blood often carried the ability to sense the future. And they almost always used this talent through dreams.

There were other patterns as well. He could see his mother, but she was changed, somehow becoming a monster. More recently, toward the end of the journal, he found listings of a robed man with a fogged mirror instead of a face. He absentmindedly wondered if he was meant to represent the Prophet.

One dream caught his eye. Janus saw an angel, who was without wings. In the kingdom of Heaven, he was scorned, and he quickly left. Eventually he returned, with wings whiter and greater then all others, and carrying a flaming sword to show his power. But he found that the other angels had chosen to worship the Devil, and upon his return, none could see his wings or sword, for all were killed.

The idea disturbed Gaspar greatly. He read on when he saw another dream that stuck his interest. In the dream, a monster was being fought by seven warriors of unequaled skill.

There was a boy of wisdom, but who never embraced the tongue of man. He was silent as the sky, but caring and thoughtful with hair that rose higher the then the lightning-stuck mountain, and was just as red.

At his left was a girl of joy whose hair was as radiant and cheerful as the sun. Her thoughts were of little else then peace and how to spread happiness to others. Yet around her was a chilled air and a need to protect those dear to her.

At his right was another girl, but this was one who covered her face and hair. Her hands were hard with work, and she smelled of oil. Inside her was great knowledge, and a since of pride that burned like a thousand flaming suns, giving her confidence in herself and that which she made.

Beside the gold-haired girl was a short figure- a once-noble warrior who lost his way by killing only for revenge. Yet he met the lead boy, and through him he re-learned lessons of battle. The warrior had no hair, butgreen,clammy skin.

And standing by the girl who smelt of oil, was a man in armor. Cold, golden steel covered every inch of his body, but the great green eyes that shone through the metal showed a kindness unheard of from man, and an appriciation for all life.

Towering over the short warrior was a woman of great height and greater muscle. Her spirit was untameable and wild beyond all close to her knew. But what appeared to others as barbaric and savage, she could only see as a freedom that none could ever take from her.

And at the other end of the line, another tall figure stood, this one recognizable as the cowled man with the fogged mirror face. In him, Janus described a sense of anger and wish for revenge.

Gaspar re-read the details of this dream several times. As he finally placed the book aside, and laid down to rest, he felt he should know the seven described.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Schala was walking slowly down the halls of Zeal, moonlight falling on and off her as she passed by the marble windows.

She had been thinking about her position in the Zealian Council. Despite the Prophet's assurences, she didn't seem to be making much progress in her work on the council. She felt out of place among the scholars that brought up matters of state. The very idea of making decisions that influenced the whole of her country made her feel somewhat nauseous.

Even as a child, she knew that her royal blood would win her a seat on the Council, but maybe she hadn't thought about the scope of even that position until now. She recalled how difficult a time she had with her Administrative classes at first. She had to admit she wasn't used to hard work in school, as she excelled in her old magical classes with hardly any effort.

Another problem was that she felt rather immature during meetings. Amongst her mother, the Gurus, Dalton and The Prophet, she just seemed to be little more then a child listening in on their conversation. They all seemed so composed and professional. Her mother and the Prophet in particular seemed to almost immediately find solutions or conclusions to any problems presented to them. Schala couldn't work so quickly. Things were over before she could even think of a good solution herself.

But maybe what the Prophet said was right. Thing could probably get better in time. She just needed to take it easy and try to improve.  
As she approached the bedrooms, she thought caught sight of the bottom of Janus's door. There was light still on in his room. Schala sighed. Janus had a tendency to stay up past his bedtime reading. She knocked softly on the door. There was no answer and she couldn't hear any movement on the other side. She opened the door.

Schala: Janus?

Something immediately seemed to cling to her waist. Janus had buried his face into her stomach, shoulders shaking.

Schala: Janus? Janus, are you okay?

The child spoke muffled words into Schala's robes. Reaching down, Schala gently pried the boy's hands from her dress, allowing her to get on one knee and be eye-to-eye with her brother. The boy was very upset, his breath coming out in fast wheezes.

Schala: Janus, calm down.

Schala began to make very loud, slow breaths. Struggling slightly, Janus began to emulate them, slowing down carefully.

Schala: Now what's wrong?

Janus: Da-Dalton... he said... said I had to go to live with the Earthbounds...

Schala: Dalton? When did he tell you this?

Janus: In cla-class.

The older girl smiled warmly, playfully dismissing any thoughts on the General.

Schala: You're going to believe what he said? None of that's true.

Janus: You... you don't think so?

Schala: Nah. You really think he has the authority to banish you, Janus? He's really just a one-eyed guard with too big a head.

While he still looked like crying, Janus gave a small giggle.

Janus: But... but he said...

Schala: You're the only heir. Without you, the whole royal system collapses. You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?

Janus: No.

Schala: Then we're safe. Nobody in their right minds would let such an intelligent boy...

Without warning, she passed her hand over Janus's right shoulder, where she knew he was ticklish. He couldn't help but laugh upon contact.

Schala: ..._not _become king. Feel any better, Janus?

With a small "Mm." Janus nodded.

Schala: That's my boy.

She reached up and ruffled his hair playfully before turning her head slightly.

Schala: Now give me a kiss.

Janus oblouged, giving his sister a quick peck on the cheek.

Schala: That's better. Now, it's past your bedtime. You need to get some sleep for tomarrow's classes.

Schala began to steer her brother toward his bed, pulling back the covers for him. As his sister tucked him in, Janus smiled.

Ne-Chan always knew what to say, in order to make things better.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

At a slow pace, Belthasar was treading through the halls of Kajar. With every turn, he glanced around hopefully, until he came to a small corner. A counter had been set up there, the wall behind it displaying large numbers of magizines and digests. By a cash regester, there was a blue-skinned creature asleep on his feet. Belthasar shook it slightly, waking it.

Belthasar: Wanna go talk?

The creature nodded the best it could without a neck, and quickly pulled a small "Closed" sign from behind the counter and placed it beside the cash register. While his friend made his way to his side, Belthasar turned to a small table beside a bookshelf. Upon the table was a large leather-bound novel, its title reading "The Killing Flame." The Guru opened it to a random page. Instantly, the pages crumbled to ash, as a tall red flame rose from the paper. It cackled, smokeless, toward the ceiling, at it's base an image of a young man screaming in torment as his home burned- the book's climax.

As he did so, the bookshelf sunk into the wall, and slid away to reveal a doorway. Belthasar walked through quickly, the Nu at his side before the book automatically closed and the shelf fell back into place.

The aged guru quickly moved to straighten several history books on strewn on a small table.

Belthasar: Sorry about the mess. I've been lending this place to Gaspar for the past few days.

Nu: Master seems troubled...

Belthasar: Just a rough day. Don't worry about it.

Nu: What has happened?

Belthasar: _(Sigh) _Well, the Queen was unhappy about me pushing back the date for the Mammoth Machine's progress.

Belthasar reaches over and begins to scratch the Nu's back.

Nu: Wha- Oh...

Belthasar: I'm starting to be sorry I ever agreed to make the Mammoth Machine. There's obviously something wrong with it.

The Nu seemed mostly focused on the pleasure from having his back rubbed, but was still vaguely listening.

Nu: W-wrong?

Belthasar: There's... there's something un-natural about what we're doing. Sometimes, when I take the machine into a test-run and look directly into the power core... it sort of feels like someone's stabbing the backs of my eyes.

Belthasar lowers his head, shaking slightly.

Belthasar: I'm not sure I can finish it. It's just not right. It's... It's frightening... One of my own creations is frightening.

The Nu is half-asleep as Belthasar scratches his back.

Nu: Lavos was always frightening. It was when it first got here, at least.

Surprised, the guru looks up at his "pet".

Belthasar: When it first got here?

Nu: Mm-Hm. _(Yawn) _I saw it hit the ground... The Big Fire from the sky... That's what that woman called it.

Belthasar: But wait, you know where it came from? What is it? How did it get here?

The Nu bends over, fast asleep.

And there you are. Hope you've enjoyed another installment of the Chronicles of the Final Days of Zeal, and I hope to have the next installment up real soon. Please leave through the marked exits. Please, for the love of god, review. I'd love to hear from you...


	5. Chapter 5

Peace.

Wow. I guess that plea for reviews really grabbed your attention. I got alot more reviews then usual after I posted chapter four. You people really came through and I thank you. _(Bows)_

Is it greedy to ask that you keep it up and submit reviews for this chapter as well? I'd particularly like to hear reviews about the scene between Janus and his mother. It came out alot better then I hoped while I was writing it. I started to realize that Janus wasn't interacting with anyone other then Schala and Dalton and it was going to get dull after a while, which is why I gave him thatscene.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was nine-o-clock in Zeal, and the palace was once more crowded with numberous blue-bloods and servants passing from their homes to their places of duty. The library was, as always, not prone to such a crowd. Very few were needed to run the palace library, other then the ten or so librarians, two royal guards were placed to assure that none enter the areas meant solely for the royal council members. So when the Prophet entered, he found the it quite empty.

While he had been spending much time in the library since his arrival in Zeal, this morning he did not come for books. Upon a wall by the historical novels was a large portrait that he had previously paid no attention to.

It was traditional that upon the crowning of the new King, a portrait be made of them and hung in the entrance hall of the Zealian Palace. The portrait is re-painted every year on the anniversary of the King's ascension to power, so as to retain how he appears at that time. But at the king's death, his portrait is taken out of the entrance hall the spot is covered with black curtains until the crowning of a new king. The curtains hung there today, to stay until Janus was of age. The portrait of the king, meanwhile, was to be taken to the place he enjoyed the most, or where he was known to spend the most time in.

King Leoric was known to be a great history buff.

So it was here that the Prophet could finally gain a good look at his father. He stared at the portrait for some time, not knowing what to think. He personally thought, looking into his eyes, that he looked rather too comfortable in his position as king. As though he didn't really want to be around with the people. He didn't quite see how this man could instill such great patriotism and admiration in those around him. They say that the men who had the duty of taking the portrait to the library from the entrance hall wept as they did so.

But then again, it would probably seem equally ludicris to people that in another world, he himself had statues and shrines built in his likeness, songs of love and devotion to him which were sung by hidious monsters as they died in his name. And Schala spoke of him as if he were a great man, and he found it difficult to distrust her words. The man must of had some qualities that were admirable.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There was a big bustle in Kajar today. Everybody seemed to be a good mood for some reason. People were running back and forth among the halls of the City of Learning and patting each other on the back. One could occationally hear the sound of champagne being opened. Janus was watching from the tucked-away magizine stand of the snoozing Nu.

He had begun to think he was spending too much time in his room, lately. He typically rarely ventured out save for meals, lessons, or to check-out books. But he had recently thought about how he had seen so little of Zeal, despite the fact he was supposed to rule it one day. Perhaps it would be best to get around the nation more instead of holding up in his room all hours of the day.

And he had quickly taken a liking to the Nu's stand. The Nu was good company- quiet, wise, and with an unending patience for listening to other people. He did have the habit of falling asleep in mid-conversation, but that was tolerable. That was why, when he was sure the nearest scientists were a good distance away, laughing at each other, Janus finally asked the question he'd been wondering for some time.

Janus: Um... Mr. Nu?

The Nu turned to him to show he was listening.

Janus: Um... I've been wondering... why I can't... y'know... cast spells...

Nu: Why do you wonder?

Janus: Well... I'm supposed to have gotten on elements by now but... I can't do any magic.

Nu: What's wrong with not having magic?

Janus: Those people on the Earthbound continent... They're not allowed up here because they have no magic.

The Nu let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a snore.

Nu: Zealians are fools.

Either due to his inhuman ability to spend hours sleeping, or simply because he assumed the conversation was over, The Nu went back to sleep. Janus stood there in thought for a moment before he heard a voice.

Gaspar: Janus? Is that you?

He turned. Gaspar had somehow appeared in front of a bookshelf.

Janus: Gaspar?

Gaspar: Didn't expect to see you here. What're you doing wandering around Kajar, my lad?

Janus: I was talking with the Nu... Um... When'd you get here?

Gaspar: What? Oh, Belthasar's letting me study here since they uh... took away my office in the palace... I think they said needed space for something...

Janus: Oh...

Gaspar looks around, taking in the celebrating citizens of Kajar.

Gaspar: Well, they all seem in good spirits, don't they?

Janus: What're they celebrating?

Gaspar: No idea. Anyway, I'm glad I caught you, son. I looked through that journal of yours. Very interesting reading.

Janus: Oh, uh... Thanks.

Gaspar: I've got another blank one, if you'd like it.

Janus: Sure.

Gaspar takes a small black book out of his robes which he hands to the boy. He takes out the other, full journal which he opens to a marked page.

Gaspar: Incidently, Janus... This dream in here about the seven people who fight the monster, do you remember any other details?

Janus: Um... not really... I think I had it a few nights after the Prophet came here.

Gaspar: Hmm... Interesting... Anyway Janus, let me know when you've finished that journal. I really found alot of the things in your dreams rather enli-

Belthasar: Gaspar!

The eldest Guru was heading toward them, looking estatic. The Nu snapped the attention.

Belthasar: Gaspar, good news we've... Your highness, what're you doing here?

Janus: Well...

Gaspar: Janus and I were having a little talking about his dream journal.

Belthsar: _(Disinterested) _Oh. Okay. _(Excited) _But old boy, you'll never believe this- the prototype's finished! They're moving it to the palace as we speak! Isn't that grand?

Gaspar: Oh well, congratulations, Belthasar.

Belthasar: Once we've installed it to the Palace's main power converter, the Queen's going to inspect it personally! She's already given me an advance grant for the completed version! I've never seen my workers so enthusiastic about a new project!

Gaspar: That's... just... great, old friend. Great.

Janus thought Gaspar sounded rather let down, but Belthasar didn't seem to notice.

Belthasar: Maybe I'll get on the blueprints tonight. Y'know, a little headstart? She'd like that. Says the sooner the better for this project.

Gaspar: Well, it might be best to slow down, man...

Belthasar: Maybe... Yeah, the workers should get some more time to themselves, not just listening to me barking orders. Bet they get sick of that, eh?

He lets out a hearty laugh.

Belthasar: Think I'll have a drink. Care to join me?

Gaspar: No, I'm going to meet someone.

Belthasar: Suit yourself.

The blue guru moved past his comrade, to the Nu's stand. The beast placed the "Closed" sign back on the counter before following at his master's shoulder. Once they were gone, Janus looked at Gaspar.

Janus: Um... you okay?

Gaspar: What? Oh! Of course. Uh...

He pats Janus's shoulder.

Gaspar: Take care of yourself, son.

The scarlet guru plods off toward the entrance of the City, looking downtrodden.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal: Hurry, you fools! I want it up as soon as humanly possible!

The minor hands began to push themselves even harder to hook up the machine. The queen sighed happily in front of the unfinished mechanical wonder.

Zeal: Isn't it just wonderfull? Soon it will be the sole source of power for the entire continent.

The Prophet had a half-hidden grimace on his face from where he stood by the walls of the chamber.

Schala: I suppose it is nice to not have to rely on Sunstones anymore.

Dalton: Uh... Highness? Maybe now I should bring up what he talked about a few weeks ago?

Zeal: Hm? What was that again?

Zeal pries her eyes off the Mammoth Machine to her General.

Dalton: You know, milady. The talk we had about the Prince?

Schala: Janus?

Zeal: What did you say about Janus?

Zeal kept glancing back to the Mammoth machine. Dalton looked irritated for a moment but covered it quickly.

Dalton: You remember, milady? About Janus being Earthbound? Sending him down with the rest of them?

Schala: What?

Dalton: It's really the only fair-

Schala: Hetold meyou were telling him that, but I never imagined that was what you actually _thought! _

Looking strangely frightening, Schala began to stare down a suprised Dalton. Although the General was taller, he found himself stepping back from the princess and trying to avoid her gaze with his eye.

Schala: How could you think about dropping Janus down onto the Earthbound Continent? That's low for even you, Dalton!

Over at the wall, a smirk had taken the place of the Prophet's grimace. Zeal though, who was still half-listening, put a hand to her chin.

Zeal: Hmm... Janus an Earthbound...

Schala turns away from Dalton, looking half-appaled, half-shocked.

Schala: Mother? Mother, you're not actually considering this?

Zeal: Well, Janus is getting older now...

Schala: But to Terra? H-He's going to be King one day, mother! You can't just...

She broke off, with a strange look on her face. Zeal was still considering.

Zeal: He _is_ getting older... He's not going to be a little boy for much longer...

The Prophet: If I may, highness-

Now it was Dalton's turn to grimace.

The Prophet: If the heir were to be sent away, the whole of the Zealian government system would break down in less then twenty years. We can't allow that, can we?

Zeal: No... No, I suppose we can't... No...

Zeal first seemed to be convincing herself about something, but her voice slowly grew louder.

Zeal: No... No, we certainly can't! The boy must stay!

Hand: Madam? We're ready!

Zeal suddenly turns, an estatic, excited look on her face.

Zeal: W-what? All done? Finsihed? Well, what're you idiots waiting for? Plug it in!

As the hands scrambled, Zeal looked over at her shoulder to the three councilmembers behind her.

Zeal: Begging your pardon, but I must examine this machine alone, and it's a little crowded in here.

The Prophet: Understood, your highness.

The Prophet gave a quick formal bow and Dalton sloppily copied. Schala still had a rather disillusioned look on her face.

Zeal: You're excused.

The man in the blue cowl gently put his hands on Schala's shoulders and began to lead her out. As they closed the door behind them, the hands were shouting at each other.

Hand: Okay, let's do it! Contact!

There was a loud bang, and then a whirring which slowly became louder. The machine began to glow from the inside, casting an eerie red light on the farthest corners of the room. Zeal clapped her hands twice, andthe torches on the sides of the chamber extinguished themselves,making the machine the greatest source of light in the room.

As the glow fell upon them, the workers paused in awe. They suddenly had a feeling that they were all very small. That there was something watching them that was greater. Something that was looking down on man.

The queen turned to the head-hand.

Zeal: Are you finished?

Hand: W-what?

Zeal: Are you done? It's turned on full now, right?

The hand was still being knocked silly by the strange feeling the Mammoth machine produced.

Hand: Uh... yeah, I guess so...

Zeal: Good. Now get out.

Hand: What?

Zeal: Out! All of you, get out of my sight!

The hands scrambled, all rushing through the chamber doors. The doors closed, and the deep noise echoed across the room. Zeal stared at the door for a moment, to be sure they weren't coming back.

When she was sure she was alone, she turned back to the machine that was still whirring and glowing. Her pace toward it was slow, and her feet seemed to be lifting right off the ground as they made no noise on the hard marble floor. There was a swivel chair idly twirling right up against the machine. Stopping the twiriling with a touch, she sat down in it slowly and carefully. It seemed much more cushioned then normal. As though it were made of clouds. She turned her face to the giant machine towering over her. A giggle escaped her, a giggle that sounded like it belonged to a silly, dim-witted high-school girl.

Zeal: La-vos. Mmmmm...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Prophet was guiding Schala by the shoulders through the halls of the palace, Dalton trailing behind. Schala had her head down, looking sad.

The Prophet: You okay?

Schala: What? Oh... yeah...

The Prophet: What's wrong?

Schala: Well... she was considering it. She was thinking about sending Janus down there in the cold.

Dalton: _(under breath) _Damn royal hypocrites.

The Prophet comes to stop, prompting his companions to do the same. His hands still protectively on Schala's shoulders, he half-turns to the general behind them. A shiver suddenly runs down Dalton's spine; while the Prophet's face is still covered in shadow and silk, he feels as though he's being given the evil eye. Yet when the Prophet spoke, his voice was quite calm and polite.

The Prophet: Something you wish to say, Dalton?

He hesitates. He did have some choice words about Schala's attitude toward things, but she was royalty. Though Janus was a prince, his low self-esteem made him easy to push around (a quality Dalton took a fast liking to). The Prophet, while now in the Queen's favor, still wouldn't do anything threatening to his job if he questioned or mocked him. But Schala was a princess, and however forgiving she may be, if he offended her (or, God forbid, news of any insolence toward her reached her mother), he would be crossing the line.

Januswas a soft subject around Schala. It may be easy to get on her bad side if he knocked the boy. But still...

Dalton: Yeah... Yeah, I got a little something to say. Why are you making such a big deal about this? Um... with all due respect, highness.

He caught himself. As long as he's doing this, he better keep respectfull. Dalton had to admit it took alot of ass-kissing for most people to get as far as he had in politics and he knew that respect could make a whole career. Any honest polititian would agree.

Schala: He's my brother. How am I supposed to act when he's being thrown out of the country?

Dalton: Well... that's just it. Terra is still technically a part of Zeal. He'd still be a citizen, just with a new lifestyle. One um... more befitting for people like him.

Schala: _(slightly irritated) _People like him?

Dalton: You know what I mean. C'mon, magic is what made Zeal what it is today. The Earthbound don't have magic, so why should we bother with them rather then let them try out on their own? But so many people keep letting us make caves and send food and water down to them. Now they're just these sickly little twigs sucking our country's tits.

Schala: If we didn't help them by giving them food and shelter, the Earthbounds would all be dead by now. Besides we're doing more harm then good. Do you know that the floating continent is almost completely blocking out the sun on the surface? Gaspar thinks that if the sun could shine through, the ice age would be over by now. If we would lower the continent then the ice and snow would melt in days. They wouldn't need our help much then.

The Prophet noted the twohad gone from arguing about the Prince's place insociety to a debate over EarthboundRights.Neither of them seemed aware of it, though.

Dalton: Why should we lower the continent and give up all the glorious life we have here just for them? They're just a bunch of under-evolved savages.

Schala: _(offended) _They're not savages, Dalton! They're regular people, just like us!

Dalton: If that's the case, then why are you so pissed that we're sending the kid down there?

Schala blinks, caught off guard for a moment.

Schala: What?

Dalton: You people are always going on about how we're the same as those magicless losers, but now that it looks like your brother is going down with them, he's too good for it.

Schala: It's not about that! How's Janus supposed to deal with such a big change like that? How's he supposed to deal with the fact that his own mother threw him away to a place he's barely even seen before?

Dalton: _(Thoughtfully) _Yeah, I guess that's true. Plus those Earthbounds will probably beat the hell out of him once they find out he's Zealian by blood.

Schala: I told you, they're not savages!

Dalton: Yeah, but they still hate us. They may kiss our asses when we're there, but I've seen them while they're mining for us. Always flashing those glares insults when they think we're not looking. They're just jealous of what we have. We're the ones with power, and they resent us for it.

Schala: With the way we use that power over them, who can blame them?

Feeling as though their debate was now over, Dalton moved away silently. The Princess was left alone with the oracle.

Schala: _(under breath) _Janus wouldn't be able to go on down there. He couldn't deal with it.

The Prophet: C'mon. Let's get out of here.

The Prophet put his hands on her shoulders again, leading her out toward the Palace gates.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was just outside the Queen's personal chambers. Gaspar sat upon a decorative couch outside clutching a small, gold-hinged box. He looked up to one of the two guards posted outside her door.

Gaspar: When is she usually back?

Guard 1: _(irritated) _I dunno, man. We're just here to keep theivesoutta her bedchambers. We're not scheduling.

Gaspar: She was supposed to meet with me by now.

As the Guru checks his pocket watch, one of the guards turns to the other.

Guard 2: _(hushed)_ Didn't this guy used to be best buddies with the King?

Guard 1: _(hushed) _Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The two barely contain their sniggers, while a glowering Gaspar clutches the ornate box tighter.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It spoke to her. A message from the dark.

The mind of a human is frought with continued fears. Fear of poverty, fear of loss, fear of self, fear of death. It is condemed to contemplate the problems that typically arise in day-to-day life. It can never stop being concerned, if not for itself, then for others. Even if the mind can pretend it is fine, that a heroic death in battle will not bother it, at least some minor fear will always linger beneath the bravery. This is why every member of the human race is at least subconsciously searching for inner peace.

But upon contact with it, she knew that those things were meaningless. For the few brief moments her mind brushed against it's, she was completely and totally at peace. She did not want anything more, for contentment was what reigned within her. When it left her, it's mind retreating back to the darkness, she was human once more. She feared. She wanted. But now what she wanted was to feel that contentment again. And what she feared was she may never get it. But it spoke to her.

She was hesitant, she did not want to do it. She loved him. But it spoke to her. It told her the way to get contintment again was to drive the knife farther in. Only then could she build the machine.

Through the years, it spoke to her, it's voice coming constantly from the dark. The machine was illuminating it in soft red light. In her mind she could see it. She could see the great spined beast, watching her like a lover. Soon the machine would touch it. Then all would be well. She would be one with it. One with contentment. That was her purpose.

Zeal: Lavos. I love you.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Meanwhile, in Kajar, Belthasar was relaxing in a small near the entrance of the city.

He was feeling quite good. He looked around at all the excitement and festivities the Mammoth Machine had brought and smiled. This was it- he knew. After a lifetime of hard work on supposedly impossible feats of engineering skill, he had finally achieved his masterpeice. A machine that will bring infinite power and glory to Zeal. Though he had made a castle beneath the sea, and a chariot in the sky, he had now truly outdone himself.

Schala: Congratulations, Belthasar.

The guru is snapped out of his thoughts as Schala pats him on the shoulder. He chuckles.

Belthasar: Thank you, child. I still can't believe all this is justover the prototype. Imagine what will happen when the final version is completed. The Mammoth Machine will change the world!

The Prophet: I think I'm going to get some air.

The Prophet quickly exited out of a small side-door into the sunlight grounds outside. Schala could soon see him out the window.

Belthasar: Are you alright, my dear?

Schala: Hm?

Belthasar: You look a little bothered.

Schala: Oh, I just got into a fight with Dalton. It's nothing.

Belthasar: Shooting his mouth off again, was he?

Schala: Yeah... He tried to get mother to send Janus to live with the Earthbounds.

Belthasar: He what?

Schala smiled. It was good to hear someone else properly outraged about it.

Schala: I know. No one even has the power to do that, do they? If Janus is going to be King, nobody can say he can't, right?

Belthasar: _(thoughtfully) _Hm...

The princess blinks and peered closely at her elder's face.

Schala: You... you don't _agree _with him do you?

Belthasar: What? Oh, don't be ridiculous! I'd never just fling the boy to the Earthbounds like that. I... I'm just not sure if he would make a good king, is all.

Schala: But he's so intelligent. You teach him, you must know how smart he is.

Belthasar looks rather hesitant. He doesn't know how to break this.

Belthasar: Yes, well... there's more to being a king then just booksmarts there's also... respect.

Schala: Respect?

Belthasar: Janus is looked down upon because he has no magic. If that doesn't change for him, he won't be respected by the people. And if they don't respect him, they won't follow him. They might even be insulted by a magicless being taking power over them.

Schala: But Janus _does _have magic.

Belthasar: He does?

Schala: When Melchoir delivered him, he said he had never felt such strong power in an infant before. He said he kept feeling a large amount of power from him for a few weeks later.

Belthasar: That was probably due to his age. Sometimes infants seem to have high levels of magical power because their mother's magic lingers on after they're born.

Schala: Really?

Belthasar: Yes. That's why there are those tapestries of pregnant women in the front lines of battle in the Great War. Women that are heavy with child have great spellcasting ability because they draw on their own abilities as well as the baby's potential power.

Schala: Even so, I fail to believe that Janus won't be a talented king simply because he has no magic.

Belthasar: There's another problem. One that's more of a hindrance to him taking the throne.

Schala: What?

Belthasar: It's his personality.

Schala: That... that's wrong. Janus's personality is one of the things that will make him a good king. He's gentle and-

Belthasar: Yes, but aside from gentleness, what are the characteristics of the Prince?

Schala: Well, I suppose he's quiet. A little shy and-

Belthasar: Exactly. He's too unsure of himself. People like him don't make it far in politics. With so people always looking out for their own careers, they'll eat him alive. How will he be able to make any laws as king if he doesn't assert himself?

Schala: I can help him if he needs it. Look after him...

The blue Guru sighs.

Belthasar: Schala, he can't always rely on you. That will never make him a king. Or a man, for that matter.

A shouting causes both of them to turn. Some aids are calling for Belthasar to join them in champagne.

Belthasar: I'm sorry, child.

The Guru heads off with the Nu at his elbow, leaving Schala alone with this news.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

From out the window, a soft breeze was carrying the guru's words to the waiting prophet. Whether the breeze was natural or a magical way of ease-dropping, is not important. The guru was right. In retrospect, supposed the Prophet, if he remained the way he was, timid as a hoodmouse and unable to cast a spell, the Mystics would've veiwed him as a normal human, and killed him on sight. The only thing that kept him alive when he entered Mystic society was the fact that he had magical power and was clearly not your run-of-the-mill human. And if he had remained shy and withdrawn, he would never had become their ruler.

But when he really thought about it, why did he suddenly get magical power? He seemed to recall, in the original timeline, that he found out Schala was on the ocean palace, and by sheer will, began to cast spells to get there. But after that first, increadibly hard to accomplish spell, it seemed magic came naturally. Through most of his life, he wasincapable of performing any sorcery at all, but one spell later, it's second nature...

It seemed like that spell had effected his state of mind, too. After that first spell, his brain seemed much clearer. Fear became more of an afterthought. He could see what was important in life, and the risks worth taking to keep that which was important. But why the sudden change in attitude? Was it an effect of that first spell?

An interesting thought. He may have to explore this.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The sun was setting. The east sky was steadily becoming a darker shade of blue, while the west was alive in a sea of orange. The smallest of children had a shadow a mile long, as everything was bathed in a soft glow. Janus returned to the palace.

He walked slowly through the halls, thinking about the words of the Nu. He didn't really answer his question. Maybe there was no reason that he couldn't do magic. Maybe it just happened. An occurance of life. Putting it out of his mind, he thought he might go to the library and read a little before he turned in. But a door at the west wing of the palace caught his eye.

He passed a gate to a long corridor. The straight hallway was completely empty, and he could plainly see the door at the other side. The blue carpet on the floor seemed like a path to the end, stopping just short of the blue ornate gateway. At the very tiny creek between that door and the floor, was a red light. Janus looked to Alfador, who mewed.

Slowly, he began downward. Each step making a soft noise on the carpetted floor. With but a tap, the door opened. A large doorway-shaped beam of red light shone on the floor. Janus stepped in slowly. He could see a chair by the machine in the center of the room. Someone was sitting on it, but was leaning on the control panel in front of her, as though she had fallen asleep while seated.

It took him a moment before he realised it was his mother. Alarmed, he approached the machine at a slightly faster pace. As he neared the side of the chair, he looked to his mother's face.

She wasn't asleep. Her face was on the console, numberous buttons and knobs poking into her cheeks. Eyes open, yet not seeing. They had a look as though they were far, far, away, to the bottom of the deepest ocean. Drool was trickling out of her mouth onto the lights and switches under her.

Janus: _(scared) _Ma... mom?

Zeal: _(far away) _Yeah. That's it.

Janus: _(slightly louder) _Mom?

The queen blinked, eyes coming slightly more into focus. She saw her son before her, and shot up in her seat, fear flying across her face and her hand rising to wipe away her drool.

Zeal: (alarmed) Leoric, I was just...

She blinked again. Her eyes came more into focus still.

Zeal: Janus?

Janus: Mom what... what just...

Zeal takes a deep breath, composing herself as her son blinked at her, alarmed.

Zeal: Oh, Janus, you scared your mother. Don't sneak up on me like that.

Janus: But what were-

Zeal: I was just inspecting the Mammoth Machine, and I suppose I dozed off for a minute.

Janus: _(in small voice) _But... but your eyes were open.

Zeal: Hm?

Janus: _(regularly) _Your eyes were open.

Zeal stood up slowly and put a hand on her son's shoulder gently pushing him along, Alfador at their feet.

Zeal: What? Oh, don't be ridiculous, Janus. You must be letting your imagination get the better of you.

Janus: But...

The two exited the Room for the Mammoth Machine and Zeal immediately sealed the door behind them.

Zeal: You shouldn't be wandering in there like that. Might not have been safe for you.

Janus: You were in there.

Zeal: Well, Janus, as current ruler I sometimes need to put myself at risk for the people. You'll understand it when you're older.

Janus began to notice his mother was leading him toward his room in the East wing of the palace.

Zeal: But of course, that won't be for a long time yet. You don't have anything to worry about.

Janus: Back there you called me something?

Zeal: What? Oh...

Janus looked up, unable to read his mother's expression for a moment. Then he could clearly see a face of happy encouragement.

Zeal: It was just that for a minute up there, you looked just like your father.

Janus: _(surprised) _Really?

Zeal: Yes. I suppose I must've been dreaming about him. And you do have a fair resemblance to him anyway.

He pauses, somewhat touched before his mother continues gently pushing him on.

Janus: You're the first one to say that, ever.

Zeal: Well, nobody quite knew Leoric the way I did. Almost there, child.

Janus: But what was that thing you were inspecting?

Zeal: That was the new powersource for the country, dearie.

Janus: Sounds pretty important.

As they stopped in front of Janus's room, Zeal smiled at her son.

Zeal: Janus, you have no idea.

She reached out and opened the door to his bedroom.

Zeal: Why don't you just go to bed. I'm sure you'll hear all about it tomarrow.

Janus: Oh, um... Allright.

He really didn't feel that tired, and still was in the mood to pursue books at the library, but didn't argue. He walked into the door, and Alfador followed.

Janus: Uh... Goodnight, Mom.

Zeal: Goodnight, and Janus?

The boy turned.

Zeal: I love you.

With that, she slowly closed the door and walked off, lighter then air.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Gaspar checked his watch. He'd been waiting for nearly an hour. With every ticking of the second hand, the sky went from orange to blue to black. Outside the window, stars twinkled into veiw, one by one. They were just on time, scheduled by Zeal's perfect weather control. When the King was ruling, he specifically went to Gaspar to try and alter the magic-powered lamps that lit Zeal at night so they could shine without causing the stars to be diminished in the least. Shortly after, he was asked to somehow alter the water table so that children could play in the rain without getting colds. King Leoric was a man who cared about his people.He tried to let them enjoy the little things in life.

There was a time when Gaspar felt a sense of pride by watching the stars and hearing the rainfall, as he knew that he changed them and made them more enjoyable. But lately he could find no enjoyment in these things. All they did was remind him that he didn't do things like that anymore. He ran his hand over the top of his cane as he considered trying to get another appointment with the Queen. Suddenly a loud, angry voice could be heard coming from the hall toward the chamber. Gaspar looked up, as did the two guards beside the door.

Zeal: I don't care what if he's busy! Tell Belthasar I want a locking system put onto the door to the Mammoth Machine's chamber. Inner council members only, understand?

Her highness appeared in the doorway, shouting at a rather harassed-looking hand, who was scribbling her orders on paper. As he dashed away, the queen sighed, looking very let down. She went toward the doors to her bedchambers, step-by-step, her heels echoing on the marble floor. Shaking her head did she go by the guru sitting to the side, apparently taking no notice of him.

Gaspar: Um... Your highness?

Zeal: Hm?

Zeal turns to him, blinking her eyes, which look strangely lightless and out of focus. For a moment Gaspar thought she looked drunk, but there was no smell of liquor on her.

Zeal: Gaspar? What are you doing here?

Gaspar: I had an appointment to see you, highness... about an hour ago.

Zeal found herself getting a headache, pain growing in every pulse that went through her skull. She rubbed a hand against her forehead, feeling increasingly exhausted since she left the Mammoth Machine chamber.

Zeal: Did you?

Gaspar: Yes, to discuss the Time Egg.

Zeal: Oh, yes, the Egg. What about it?

Gaspar clutches the ornate box, looking to make his words as kind as he can, without sounding as though he's accusing her of something.

Gaspar: It's just... uh... you said you'd be willing to invest more money into the egg upon completion of the Mammoth Machine Prototype. But now I have absolutely no projects to work on. Or even an office to work on them in.

Zeal: This Time Egg... it brought back the dead, right?

Gaspar: Well, it's really a little more complex then that, but basically, yeah.

Gaspar opens the box, revealing a perfectly smooth egg made of appeared to be white marble with the tiniest tint of gold on the shell.

Gaspar: This prototype though, it can only revive people who have changed the timeline, and only has a minor probability of success. I can't think of anyone like that but...

Zeal: So you want me to invest in an item that can bring back the dead, but not anybody we know?

Gaspar: No! The... the finished version could do it! It could bring back anyone we wanted!

Zeal: _(skeptically) _I see. Forgive me if that seems a little like a boastfull fact, Gaspar.

Gaspar: That's what you said when the King asked me to make a new type of snow for Christmas which was warm and dry.

Gaspar's eyes light up, and he turns to the Queen joyously.

Gaspar: Milady, if I can perfect this egg, complete it, then... then we could bring back his highness! He'd be able to take the throne again, see his children! Wouldn't that be grand?

Zeal: No.

Gaspar: Wha... No?

The expression on the Queen's face had changed suddenly. At first she simply looked annoyed and exhausted, but now she appeared to be firm and cross. The features on her facehad becomevery sharp, noticable, and jagged.

Zeal: No, I don't think we will be doing that. The best thing right now would be to merge your group into archives. You seem to have a talent for history, why not put it to use?

Gaspar stood there, looking like a child whose balloon had been popped. The Queen turned away from him, looking back and forth accross the hall.

Zeal: Where did that damn scribe get off to? Oh, you!

She pointed suddenly to one of the guards, who blinked.

Zeal: Take this down. Send a notice to all three gurus that if Janus cannot yet perform magic at seventeen, he is not to be crowned, and the throne will continue to be held for a qualified ruler. Did you get all that?

The guard, who had instantly scrambled for paper and a pen after the Queen began talking looked at the scribbled words he had written in haste.

Guard: Uh...

Zeal: Get it down, and send it to the Gurus. But this is to be kept confidential, and if it gets out into the public, don't think you won't be blamed.

Gaspar: Hold on now!

Her highness turned. Gaspar was actually glaring at her, looking outraged.

Gaspar: You can't just... just deny the boy the crown! You don't have that kind of power.

Zeal: I am the Queen of Zeal, most powerfull nation in the world. Who has more power then I?

Gaspar frowns. In an instant he summons his courage, trying to keep his voice civil.

Gaspar: With all due respect highness, you are not the Queen. When you, Miss Arallea, married his lordship you were in Zeal tradition granted the title of "Our Lady Of Zeal". But since you wed into the royal family, you are technicallyonly a princess. When you asked to be called Queen Zeal following the wedding, King Leoric indulged you. And as much as you seem to have tried to make people forget, you are only holding the throne until Janus is of age.

As Gaspar spoke, Zeal's expression became steadily angrier.

Zeal: You have the nerve to-

Gaspar: _(Talking over her) _You, nor anyone else alive, has the authority to simply keep Janus from taking that is meant to be his! But perhaps you have grown comfortable in the time since the king's-

Gaspar did not get another word out of his mouth before the Queen shot a large red bolt into his chest. He was knocked onto his back, hat, glasses, and cane thrown into the air as their owner skidded accross the waxed and polished floor. His head slammed into a wall and he halted, a tiny trickle of blood coming from his mouth. The guards stared open mouth at what just happened.

Zeal: Take him to the Sun-Palace.

There was a pause in which she noticed her orders were not being followed. She turned angrily to the two gawking guards.

Zeal: Did you hear me? Take him to the Sun Palace!

The two of them scrambled, dropping their spears to pick up the old man.

Zeal: Inform the Son of Sun that Gaspar has been banished, and that he must now be kept under guard. We have no need of the Sun Palace now anyway, since the Prototype is now powering the city. Sun Stones are meaningless. I'll fill out the official paperwork of his banishment tomarrow.

She then began to move toward the door to her bedchamber. After opening the door she suddenly turned back to shout at the guards as they exited into the hallways with Gaspar's unconscious body.

Zeal: And once you've done that, bring that message to the remaining gurus!

With that she slammed the door.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The heat from the forge was enough to melt the oldest of minerals taken from the pits of the Earth, the red rock discovered by King Leoric called Dreamstone. The tiny grains of red dust he had been collecting for months became liquid, fusing together into a single molten mass. He folded it over, harded it, sharpened it, formed it as he had done for so many others.

Melchoir pulled from his forge his life's work, and the molten cooled to show two green-skinned children.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

And there goes Gaspar. I don't plan on using him much after this. Shame, he had good chemistry with the other gurus. As I said earlier, I hope for reviews, espicially about that one scene with Janus and Zeal. I'd love to hear from you...


	6. Chapter 6

Peace, my friends. Yes, this is late, I know. Been two months since I uploaded a chapter of this, but it feels like alot longer. If there are any readers left, you'll find comfort in that I don't think the next chapter will be that long.

I'm still looking forward to reviews, as they really perk up my day. Hope you enjoy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Ehnasa was a place of dreaming. Corridors were openly filled with beds, all made and prepared. Citizens of the sleeping city were to be usually seen napping between daily activities. In one bed was a bald, pointy-eared creature with greenish-yellow skin. Seated at the foot were two similar creatures dressed in long white robes. They were identical, save for the colors of the collars at the top of their robes.

Doreen: So, you're the souls from that new red knife, eh?

Masa: Yeah. He said it was supposed to be his masterpeice.

Doreen: It is.

Mune: Uh... he said we should meet you. That you could get us up to speed on this "life" thing...

Doreen: Right. I know what's it's like to be a sword today.

Doreen turns onto her side, and Masa blinks.

Masa: What sword were you?

Doreen: Back in the day I was King Leoric's sword.

Mune: Whoa. Bet you got alot of action then, huh?

Doreen: Not really. There's no war in Zeal, and the King hated to go hunting. I basically just hung off his belt looking cool. Did a good job at it, though.

Masa: If there's no war in Zeal, why did Melchoir make a sword for the king in the first place?

Doreen: I just told you- It looked cool.

Mune: So you've never seen battle?

Doreen: Nope. Gives me time for other things.

Mune: Like what?

Doreen: Dreaming.

Doreen turns onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

Doreen: Do we even know what a dream is? Is another way of looking at things? Or is it a glimpse into a another world? Is it truth itself? Maybe it's a dip into your own, self-contained mind away from others?

Mune: This is getting too deep for me.

Masa: Hang on a minute, I looked into Melchoir's books and saw large orders for weaponry, espicially swords.

Doreen: Mmm-Hmm.

Masa: So if there's no war in Zeal, why the all the sales?

Doreen: People go hunting. It fullfills their inner desire to kill. Of course they have magic to fall back on in case there are any complications, so it's hardly a fair fight for the beasts. Plus all the politician's are so paranoid they can't sleep without a dagger or something under their mattress.

Mune: Why come?

Doreen: Because they're politicians. Politicians have to paranoid. Higher up they go, the moreso they are. Their jobs need public support so they're afraid of people turning on them and loss of their image. And they're afraid people will get positions they want before they do. And then they're afraid that someone will kill them and usurp them. They're afraid of everything.

Mune: Wow... What a crappy line of work.

Doreen: Every ruler has at least a little bit of paranoia in one of those areas. When the prince was born, I could feel the king getting a little paranoid that he would be usurped by his son.

Masa: What happened to the king?

Doreen: Oh, that?

She turns back onto her side, facing the wall. She closes her eyes, about to sleep.

Doreen: His chamberlain. Stabbed him in the back. Was caught in the act and killed before he could be questioned. After that, weapon sales went up, up, up.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Elsewhere on this lazy afternoon, Schala and Melchoir were sitting on a couch in some nameless hall of Kajar. Both had their heads down, talking softly to each other in concerned voices.

Melchoir: He was younger then the rest of us. We sorta became like brothers, him, Belthasar and me... He was our kid brother.

They both look up at the sound of footsteps. The blue Guru was moving forward.

Melchoir: Shouldn't you be working?

Belthasar: Can't.

Melchoir: Wanna talk?

Belthasar: Sure.

Belthasar sits down on a small chair across from his two friends.

Belthasar: So you heard, eh?

Melchoir: Yeah. He's gone. It's official.

Belthasar sighs.

Belthasar: Why would he do it? Why steal from the queen's personal vault?

Schala: He didn't.

Melchoir: What?

The princess looks up, somewhat outraged.

Schala: He couldn't have. Why would Gaspar do something as foolhardy as that? Everyone knows that the royal vault is impenetrable. The three of you designed it together! Why would he try to steal from it?

Belthasar: She cut off his grants. All the money from his funding was going into the Mammoth Machine. He couldn't make a completed version of his Time Egg, so it could only affect people who have changed the timeline. Maybe he thought that if he got the money...

Schala: You don't believe that.

Melchoir: I saw him on the way to the palace. He looked rather depressed. I should've stopped to talk, but I had some other things on my mind that day.

Schala: Can you honestly say you think he'd steal from the vault?

Belthasar: No, but... the Queen caught him in the act. Why would she make something like that up?

Schala paused, seemingly unable to answer.

Melchoir: I wonder if he'll try to escape.

Belthasar: Escape? From banishment?

Schala: But he's being guarded by the Son of Sun. Not even dad could beat him in a straight fight.

Melchoir: Not during the day, no. But after dusk he gets really sleepy and inactive. Gaspar could probably get away. Then all he'd have to do is figure out a way back to the mainland.

Belthasar: I don't think so. Gaspar knows the old laws better then any of us. Since the king retired the death penalty, banishment is our harshest punishment. But if a banished person attempts to re-enter society, he _will _be given death by firing squad. Or maybe it was hanging, I can't remember.

Melchoir: You're right. Gaspar's not stupid.

Schala: But... how's he going to live on that island all alone?

Melchoir: He's in Son of Sun's care, so that thing is obligated to feed him and tend to him. He'll just have to stay on that island... until he dies.

There is a pause following these words, as all three sit in silence.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Janus was walking through the halls of the palace. His pale skin was now looking very clean and his cerulean hair was slightly damp and shiny. He was moving slowly through the corridors, turning his head constantly to peer at windowsills and in corners where small objects had somehow fallen. He did not even notice the woman he was walking toward until he bumped into her and fell down.

Zeal: Watch- Oh, Janus, dear.

Zeal had been pacing up and down the corridors of the palace with a tall white-haired woman in a business suit. The woman blinked at Janus, holding a clipboard, but her highness tookhis hand and helped him to his feet.

Zeal: You should be more carefull, Janus.

Janus: Uh... sorry.

Zeal: You remember my secretary, Mrs. Dinten?

Janus: Not... really.

Ms. Linten: Uh... Linten. My name's Linten. And it's miss-

Zeal: See? Linten. I get confused myself.

Janus smiled slightly.

Janus: Right. Uh... Mom, have you seen Alfador anywhere?

Zeal: Alfador? No. Why, is she missing?

Janus: I just took a bath, and now I can't find her...

Zeal: Well, she'll turn up. Excuse me now, Janus. Mummy's got alot of work to finish.

Zeal walks off down the hall with her secretary at her side. Janus turned away and went back to his search. He continued through the carpeted corridors until he heard the sound of laughter. He glanced through a window, into the courtyard of the palace.

Several boys about his age were crouched down in a circle on the sunny grass. He could hear them laughing and joking about something, all eyes fixed on what was in the center of them. There was also the sounds very soft bangs, as though they were setting off firecrackers. They kept laughing and lightly whapping each other on arm.

Janus stared at the circle for a moment, not quite sure what to do. He never had any friends his own age, but it was something he truly wanted. He wanted to be accepted by his peers and made a part of a group. He'd always watched them from afar, looking at them as they joked around and ran back and forth like idiots. But they had such a good time doing it with each other. He moved though a nearby archway into the courtyard, walking slowly toward the group. Curious, he rose his head on tip-toe to get a good look at what they were playing with without having to get too close uninvtied.

It was Alfador.

They had formed a circle with her in the center, and begun shooting off their new elemental spells on the ground around her. They would pop and bang, as the feline jumped back and forth, trying to find a way out, before jumping again at the sound of another bang. Seeing his cat panic like this, Janus suddenly felt very angry.

Janus: DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!

All heads turned toward him. The boys who had their backs to him,half-turned. In that moment when all of the bangs had stopped, Alfador dashed out in the space between two boys and lept into the arms of her master.

Janus's anger evaporated quickly as his cat jumped onto his chest pooled into his arms. He looked her over, making sure she wasn't hurt by the spells that had been flung around her so carelessly. He said something very soft to her so she knew she was safe as he turned away from the boys to head back toward the castle.

Lucanous: Hey!

Janus turned to look back. The boys were on their feet, gathered around him. He began to feel fleetingly afraid. Most of them were taller then him, and there were about half a dozen of them. And they had magic, something that he sorely lacked and couldn't retalitae with. He failed to notice that their expressions weren't of anger, but ones of a bemused curiousity. The boy who cried out to him had a strange, lingering grin on his face like a Jackel.

Lucanous: You're him, right? The Prince?

Janus: Uh... uh-huh.

He took a step back. The boy in the front took a step forward. He rose his right hand, index finger extended.

Lucanous: Is it true? Y'know? What they say about you?

Janus: What they say?

Carrace: C'mon, Luke. Let's go.

Lucanous: I just wanna...

A very tiny jolt of lightning flew from the tip of his finger onto Janus's cheek. He immediately rose a hand to the spot to calm the sting. He looked back at them. They were all peering at him, as though waiting for something. He turned and bolted out of the courtyard, feeling their eyes on his back and hearing their laughter on his ears.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Damn kids.

The Prophet was in the library of the palace. He was planning on reading, but he found no book that interested him. There were only minor texts on spells and dull monolouges about morals and rights. The only other books were historic documents and biographies about people he didn't in the least care about. Yet since his return to Zeal, he gained new memories of his childhood. This was obviously the result of his return and the changing of the timeline. He remembered Schala telling him that Gaspar was gone, but in the original Timeline none of the Gurus were banished, and they were present in the Ocean Palace when Lavos awoke. Upon feeling some particular new memories beginning to form in his mind, he laid back in a library armchair, and thought.

He supposed, as he thought about his newly formed memory, that those insolent little children wanted to see if the rumors were true. It wouldn't be hard, even at that age, to have blocked that lightning bolt. But his younger self couldn't, and those vile boys would tell their mothers that the rumors about an Earthbound Price were all true, thus fueling more rumors and making him more of a joke and an outcast in Zealian society.

He had never been part of any society now that he thought about it.

In his early childhood, he was constantly an outsider because of his royal blood and lacking of magical talent. Afterwards amongst the Mystics, in what he called his second life, there was a ripple of coldness from those who didn't know him particuarly closely. This was almost certainly streaming from the fact that he was a man. Not a mystic taking human form, like Flea, but a true human being.

During his years as The Magus, at which time he had to keep a distance from his troops and continuing his life as an outsider, he had developed the theory that if a man was loathed by everyone in the world, he would die very quickly and nobody would mind, regardless of whether it was right or not. This could be proven by the fact that the humans and Mystics engaged in a decades-long, horribly grusome war, which cost countless lives on both sides, for little reason other then hating each other.

The war was not over land or slavery, as both sides would claim. It was purely on the principal of "Us or Them". The humans hated the Mystics because they believed they were monsters, and the ignorant used monsters as scapegoats for their common problems. The Mystics hated the humans because they believed humans were thieves, as they had the village of Porre swindled from them for a small bag of beads centuries ago, and also because they thought the humans were cannibals because of the way they tended to argue and fightamongst themselves. Both sides hated the way the other was different from them, socially and physically. Both sides secretly feared the other's abilities- the Mystics feared human's superior numbers and organization of government, and the humans feared the Mystic's magic and general physical superiority.

So as a human in Mystic society, he grew up with stares and odd looks. When he became their warlord, he was adored for his decisions on and off the battlefield. He was revered as the first Mystic king in over six centuries. But at that point, people only saw him as a figurehead, save those he'd known since childhood.

Perhaps that was why he hexed that squire Cyrus had following him. Cyrus was well known for being a huge bigot and angry at Mystics in general. He almost killed the Frog King, a respected, and rather beloved member of the Mystic community. He had a great ambition, and he wanted to prove he was worth something to the war effort. But he was fast to blame the Mystics for problems of man. Despite his bravery, he thought The Magus was evil out of nothing but the morals taught to him by the hateful society he grew up in.

So when he saw that squire, so distraught over the death of such a man who, dispite his redeeming qualities, was still nothing but a hypocrite carrying out justice on someone he just believed to be guilty, he transformed him into something hideous. Make him see what it was like to be a monster. The whole frogidea was somethinghe got from books he read after conquering human towns. Of course, at the time, he hadn't anticipated that the tadpole would reforge the Masamune and break into his palace accompanied by soldiers who had somehow accquired magical power, but that was irrelevant now. Perhaps he should've thanked them for ruining his ceremony. It did allow him to get his old life back.

Although his old life was not really that bad. Something like what happened with those kids never occurred, although he would get stares. Unlike those children and the population of Zealians at large, Mystics did not bicker amongst themselves and stab each other in the back so that one of them may benefit. Mystic were united for a great common goal- the survival of their race and the elimination of humanity. As long as they moved toward that, they were eager to play a part in the war.

During the years of the war, when he was surrounded by his loyal generals, he was actually accepted. He had his friends, people who he relied on to follow his orders and be experts on the battlefield...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The wounded were doing fine. They were being taken to the Jugglers in the west wing of the Magus's castle, which had a section set up as a med-space. Although the battle was a victory, Epstein, an Outlaw that had been sent as a scout, was badly injured shortly into the fighting. Maybe he should visit him. Although he did hate going to the medical space.

The Magus considered it as he walked through the crowd of his returning soldiers. There was some ash on his pale face, and his cloak had been stained crimson by the blood of his victims. He noted that it had also dried and caked onto his armor and scythe. He grimaced. At least the Med-Space was on the way to his chambers.

He entered into the double doors of his castle, as the monsters around him hugged their loved ones and were begged to tell stories of the bloody battle. Some held up trophies like silk that they managed to pillage before retreating. Magus's strike on the training center for young Guardian soldiers would cut into the human's numbers and discourage more men from enlisting. Keeping down the count of enemy soldiers was much easier for the Mystics then it was for the humans, since man always bickered amongst itself. It was also more important to the Mystic's as well, since the human's primary advantage in battle was the superior numbers used to make up for their lack of magic and physical power. It wasn't totally nessecary to attack the nearby town as well, but for the Mystics, terrorizing the populace and looting human goods was a real morale booster.

He passed the doors to the dining hall and could hear loud singing. This could only mean one thing- his troops had broken out the mead. Music was essential for any army, and when the Mystics returned home from war, the songs they sang fell into one of three catagories. There were drinking songs, there were victory songs, and there were drunken victory songs. By the sound of it they were engaging in the final type.

"And with his mighty bow,  
He slayed them human wimps!  
So here's to freaky Starkey-  
The pissed-off drunken Imp!"

This was followed by a large amount of cheering and Magus was sure that Starkey just had a flagon of mead poured out onto his head. He focused on what was ahead of him. He opened the heavy wooden door to the medical space, and was almost instantly greeted by a Naga-ette in a nurse's hat.

Naga-Ette: Milord! What are you doing here? Were you injured in the battle?

Magus: No, I came here to see Epstein. Is he here?

Naga-Ette: Oh, yes, sir. He's here. We've removed all the arrows and Zappa is working to prevent infection.

She began to lead him through the rows and rows of cots. Almost all of them had bandaged, groaning members being attended to by Jugglers and Naga-Ette nurses, with friends and family at their sides. Here and there he could see a Juggler sighing before pulling sheets over the head of his patient. While the chamber was particularly well-light during the day, at night it was as poorly illuminated as the rest of the castle, and the scarred and wheezing faces shone with sweat in the low torchlight.

They neared the end of one of the rows, where there was an Outlaw lying on his back, eyes closed. Many of his feathers had fallen out and were now littering the stone floor around the cot. A Juggler was hovering over him, spellcasting at the numberous puncture wounds that were bringing blood onto the few feathers he had left. Occationally when the Juggler would cast something over a particularly bloody wound, the Outlaw would trash slightly and let out an painful screech.

Naga-Ette: George? His lordship came to see Mr. Epstein.

Zappa: Oh...

Magus: I just wanted to see if he was alright.

The Juggler glanced up at Magus, before turning back to focus on his work.

Zappa: His right wing may be infected. I uh... I just need to contain it, that's all.

Magus suddenly felt something tight close around his wrist. He looked down to see Epstein's feathery fingers squeezing his hand as hard as possible.

Epstein: You... you saved me.

He sat up and coughed loudly, blood trickling through the edges of his beak and more feathers falling off his neck.

Magus: Right, well-

Epstein: When those fucking ploshes broke out the long-bows, you pulled me out before it got too bad. I mighta been... I mighta been dead. Mighta been...

Epstein let go of Magus's wrist, voice breaking off as he turned on his side. Zappa continued to cast spells on his wounds, but Magus turned to walk back up the rows of cots. About halfway up however, he was stopped.

Hetfield: Wait! Wait, stop!

The Magus turned to see a female Hench running up to him as fast as her legs could take her. Or maybe it was a male. With henches, how the hell was anybody supposed to tell the difference?

Hetfield: You! You're the one who saved him!

Magus: Excuse me?

Hetfield: _(tearingly joyfull) _My son Hammett! He says you pulled him out after those ploshes started hurling daggers at him!

Magus: I suppo-

Hetfield wrapped her arms around him suddenly, openly sobbing. Magus frowned. This was why he hated the fucking med-space. At least this time there were no teary-eyed mothers screaming at him because their sons had been killed. In a moment though, the hench broke off sniffling apologetically.

Hetfield: I'm... I'm sorry. You probably have so much business to take care of...

Magus: Yes. Yes, I do. Please excuse me.

Magus turned on a heel and soon briskly walked once more through the heavy wooden door. He turned again, planning on returning to his personal chambers near the center of his palace. But as he passed through the meeting room, he heard voices.

Flea: I see you got a dagger in your arm. What'sa matter, Slash? Getting a little too old to block anymore?

Slash: You wish, baby-cakes.

Magus entered the room to see his generals and company leaders gathered around the wooden round table that he used to give briefings. Slash, who was shirtless and had a bandaged right shoulder, was shuffling cards.

Slash: I'll have you know that I let that knight hit home with that dagger.

Flea: Uh-huh. And why would you do that?

Slash: Are you kidding me? Chicks dig scars! They think it's kinky! Y'know Commander Simmons? He got one of those cool face-scars, now he gets more ass then a chair.

Magus: You realize that scar is make-up.

The heads around the table turned to their lord who was strolling into the room and took his seat. His leaders and generals were all around him, looking at him idolizingly. There was Ozzie of course, seated next to him. And beside him was Jagger, a field-leader for spies and Outlaws who looked so old appeared to already be decomposing. Seated to Jagger's left was Mercury, a Juggler who had a rather creepy obsession with furs. Across the table from Magus was Flea, the mystic who had used her power to take on the form of a human. As long as she kept her ears covered, she was usefull in passing through human villages undetected. She was shooting annoyed looks at Slash, the blue-skinned swordsman who was shuffling cards. Beside him was Townshed, a very powerfull Hench who was primarilly in charge of training new troops. And seated next to him, on what was Magus's other side, was Tankian, a sorceror who hoved slightly off his chair, due to the fact that his species had nothing below their waists.

The round table idea was something Magus had heard about in his childhood. Apparently his father held his royal council meetings around a round table, although that was made from sculpted Zealian marble and not plain oak. When it came time for Magus to appoint a war-council, he thought he'd hold meetings in a similar way. The human's knights he understood, gathered together around a square one. While it seemed like the shapes of council tables were a strange things to ponder about, Magus thought that shape was impractical for such a large number of soldiers.

Slash: You in for poker, big guy? I just got my paycheck for killing those ploshes, and I'm looking to spend, spend, spend!

Ploshes. An offensive term for humans. The idea was human's skins were so soft compared to those of Mystic's. Even imps had skin resembling a light leather. So by comparison humans were like living plush dolls. Although the Juggler who initially joked about this out after returning home from a battle had a speech impediment which prevented him from correctly saying the word "plush". That was the urban legend about how it started, anyway.

Magus: Sure, I'm in.

Flea: Not me. I'm gonna bring out some of the Jugglers and Sorcerors for a war game. _(To Mercury and Tankian) _You two. Let's go.

Grumbling, Mercury and Tankian got up and left. As Slash delt out the cards and they anted, Jagger immediately turned out to look at the door where she left.

Jagger: They gone?

Magus: Yeah.

Jagger: Good. I'll start with a raise.

Jagger reached into his hip-pouch, pulling out a roll of photographs.

Ozzie: Ooh.

Townshed: 'Zat Bromide?

Jagger: Raise you five-thousand.

During wartimes, bromide greatly rose in value. If a soldier was on leave, you could get him to buy bromide with insane amounts of money, because he would know that the longer he was in the feild, the more he'd need those pictures. As good social graces, a soldier with bromide would be given privacy by the rest of his company, and he could often rent it to other comrades in the night in exchange for a drink. To carry bromide in the field meant you had an air of status among the other men.

Slash: Whoa, Jagger. Nothin' doin'.

Townshed: Yeah. No bromide's worth five grand.

Jagger: Ah, but this ain't just any bromide. I could've gotten killed if I got caught taking them.

Magus: You took these yourself?

Jagger: _(winks) _Master of the spies.

Ozzie: Well, what's so special about them?

Jagger: This happens to be bromide of our dear, dear, Flea.

Everyone eye's widen at this statement, even the typically calm Magus. To sneak into Flea's room and take dirty pictures of her was a dangerous feat indeed. Jagger would have to be the first person to attempt it and actually get the goods. And probably the last.

Slash: Do you... do you see everything?

Jagger: You could make a female anatomy book with these babies.

Slash: _(immediately tossing in coins) _I'm in! Gimmegimmegimme!

Townshed: Whoa, why the big hype, Slash?

Ozzie: I've known Flea since she was twelve. She is the most secretive bitch I've ever seen.

Magus: When I was a kid, I remembered her going into a rage because I walked into her room to bring her some papers.

Townshed: Yeah, but... Isn't Flea, y'know... A dude?

Slash: No way someone that bitchy could be a dude, dude.

Jagger: If she is a dude, I'd like to know who I just took pictures of, cause that was clearly a chick.

Ozzie: I'm pretty sure she's a woman.

Magus: Me too.

Slash: How would you know?

Magus: _(looking at cards, nonchalantly) _When I went through puberty I stole her panties a couple of times.

Ozzie promptly spit out the mead he was drinking, drenching Slash, who was across from him. The blue swordsman took no notice of this, instead standing up in awe and staring at the great warlord.

Slash: Mi-milord, listen very carefully- DO YOU STILL HAVE THOSE PANTIES?

Magus: Not sure.

Slash: Did she like, piss in them or something?

Jagger: Jesus, Slash!

Slash: What? I'm just asking!

Magus: They're clean.

Slash: I will go without pay for a month for those.

Magus: _(smirk) _I'm not sure. I could probably get more then that at auction.

Townshed: _(to Slash) _What're you even gonna do with them? Wear them?

Ozzie: SHUT UP! We don't need to know what he's gonna do with them!

Magus: _(Chuckles) _They're yours. I'll fish them up for you for a hundred.

In the blink of an eye, Slash had zoomed across the room and was kneeling beside his master's chair, tears running down his face.

Slash: Oh, Great Magus. You are so benevolent. It is little wonder why you are such a mighty source of hope to the people.

Magus smirked, holding out his hand so Slash could kiss it feircely.

Ozzie: I'm still amazed you took those in the first place.

Magus: _(Shrugs) _I was fourteen. You do weird things when you're fourteen.

Townshed: Yeah, I remember I once tried to put on my dad's armor and sneak into an adult theater.

Jagger: Ah, that's nothing. You ever get caught peeping in the girl's bathroom?

Slash straightened up, heading back to his seat.

Slash: I once saw a Naga-ette walking the opposite way I was and tripped so I would fall into her breasts.

Magus: How 'bout you, Ozzie?

Ozzie looked down into his tankard.

Ozzie: Shit, kid. I was fourteen a long time ago. I can't remember stuff like that anymore.

Slash: Oh, c'mon, Oz. You're only five years older then I am.

Ozzie: Yeah, but you still act like you're fourteen. Of course you can remember crap like that.

Magus: You telling me you have such great knowledge of books but nothing of your youth?

Ozzie looks into his tankard for a minute before smirking.

Ozzie: There was things one time... me and my cousin Frog Prince were fourteen...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The door swung shut, and Janus leaned against it, panting. As he stood there, he began to relax. He was safe. It was probably stupid to run away like that. But as his thoughts of fear evaporated, new thoughts broke through the fog.

He had been humiliated. He had been put on the spot to preform a task he just couldn't do. His pathetic ineptitude at a simple task had been brought to public among people that under slightly different circumstances might have been his peers. This would only fuel rumors and lower the public opinion on the boy who had the title of prince. He would become still more of a joke, both as a ruler and as a person.

Yet this did not make him feel sad, or cause him to indulge in self-pity. Instead, it made him feel... angry.

How dare those vulgar little children do that to him. He was going to be king someday, so shouldn't he deserve to get some respect from his future subjects? Magic or not, they clearly recognized who he was, and they shouldn't have treated him like some toy. What's more they made Alfador into a creature for their own stupid amusement. They would purposely frighten her and make her try to run scared so they could laugh and whap each other on the shoulder. Alfador was the friend that gave him comfort and helped him sleep at night. She was a living creature, but they cheapened that and made her into their plaything.

Alfador put her paws on Janus's shoulder and began to lick his cheek where the lightning bolt had struck it. It had become red and puffy, and it still stung at the touch of her tongue.

Oh, but if he could've done magic then, how different it would have been. If only he had the lightning that that boy had so casually hit him with, but on a grander scale, how those foolish children would have seen the graveness of their mistake. He would weld a hundred thunderstorms into each of them, until the very water in their cells was teeming with electricity. They would lie blackened on the ground, nerves overloaded with the sting Janus now harboured in his cheek, magnified times beyond counting. And they would groan and ask for aid, yet he would show no pity and threaten any who helped them with the same fate. They would not laugh or whap each other then.

Janus smirked in his brooding, raising a hand to pet Alfador. He hadn't really had a fantasy like this before, but the mental image of those children, his supposed "peers" sprawled on the ground gave him some great satisfaction.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The one-eyed general of the fortress walked through the halls toward the library, eyes looking over and over the contents of a yellow folder, a frown becoming increasingly apparent on his brow.

Using the Mammoth Machine as a power source revealed many spots in the Zealian cities where circuitry had fallen into disrepair. The amount of energy coming from the Mammoth Machine was so much greater then that coming from the Sun Stones that itoverloaded those weak spots and caused certain areas to experience blackouts. It was a nessecary change of course, the Sun Stones were non-renewable resources since they would take millions of years to charge once they ran out of power. But this mass repair operation in a addition to the fact he occationally had to work on the Prince's lessons made the General regret the setting up of the Mammoth Machine more and more each day.

Usually Belthasar would be the one to work on this kind of technical thing, but the Queen insisted he continue work on the Mammoth Machine. After him Gaspar would be the regular choice as he had unparalleled knowledge of the inner workings of the cities. But he had been caught stealing, and while Dalton didn't mind not seeing his wrinkled face again, he would be damn usefull now. So Dalton being a chief intelligence on engineering and technology, not to mention his experience organizing manpower was the one who got the job.

Without thinking he removed his silver flask from its pouch under his cape and raised it partway to his lips before stopping. He needed to estimate the cost of the repair work and he wouldn't be able to do that if he was hammered. Frowning, he put the flask back in its pouch before stepping into the library.

But as he walked in, he spotting something that made him want to get hammered infinitely more. The Prophet was seated in a cushiony red armchair, head laid up against the back as though in calming thought.

Dalton could already feel his blood boiling. That cowled bastard was sitting under a sunny window while he and the rest of the palace worked tirelessly to make this Mammoth Machine idea work. Granted the Queen was doing little other then giving orders and threatening those that failed to follow them. But at least that was something. Still, the oracle just sat around relaxing. Angrilly, Dalton marched over toward him.

"For each man you send to kill me, I will bring you back a corpse."

Those words spoken to him months ago floated back up to the top of Dalton's brain. They caused a chill in his skin. He was a fairly powerful magic caster, not up to the level of the Queen or the Princess, but still advanced. But there was no telling how good this Oracle could be.

As he pulled up a chair in the library and punched a calculator, he frowned. He'd need another way to deal with this bastard.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was the following morning. As per the usual, the sun was shining though the windows of the palace. Melchoir was sitting at the table in the little side room used for Janus's lessons. He had his cane put upamongst the items used for practising basic magical spells as hestretched his leg out under the table. Its stiffened muscles felt good in the cool morning air.

The door opened and Janus walked in with Alfador.

Melchoir: Ah, there you are, Prince.

Janus: _(sullen) _Hi.

Melchoir: Running a little late today. Hope nothing's wrong.

Janus: No, uh... sorry to keep you waiting.

Janus took his seat opposite of Melchoir, and the guru blinked in his direction. Janus was looking down and off to the side at a corner of the room. Close up, his eyes looked red, and one of his cheeks had a slight pink tint to it. Also, instead of soaking on a sunny windowsill as she usually did during these lessons, Alfador had settled in his lap as he scratched her between the ears.

Melchoir: Are... areyou okay?

Janus: What? Oh, I'm fine.

There is a pause as the guru gazes in Janus's direction before just letting the subject drop.

Melchior: Alright then... let's get going.

Janus chooses one of the objects on the table, and takes it in his hands to begin as usual. But he looks down at it in silence for a moment.

Melchoir: Something wrong?

Janus: Melchoir... Why do kids act like they do?

Melchoir blinks. Janus had never shown any real interest in the other children of the palace. Not that he knew of anyway. He usually seemed content to stay with his sister, cat, and books.

Melchoir: I'm... I'm not sure what you mean.

Janus: Y'know... like kids my age. They're always laughing and running around like idiots. Why do they act like that?

The Guru ponders for a moment. The question is a little odd, not just because the Prince was the one asking it, but just generally. How does one describe the way young people act? Melchoir rubbed his neck, considering the question.

Melchoir: Well... you know, highness. That's just the way little boys act... They do things that may seem kinda stupid from an outside perspective... They'll ride bikes, cut themselves, get covered in mud... It's just something they do.

Janus: I see...

Janus stares at the object in his hand again, sadly.

Melchoir: Why do you ask?

Janus: No reason.

As the Prince sets to work, Melchoir leans back in his chair, watching him closely.

Did Janus discover the burden of peer pressure? Was be being bullied? That would take guts to publicly bully a royal party member. If the queen heard that somebody was teasing her son, she'd find the kid and whip him raw. Still, Melchoir couldn't remember Janus ever going _near _anyone his own age. Schala had friends throughout her childhood. Leoric encouraged her to go out among her peers even though they went to school while she had private lessons. Leoric said it would help her rule if she was close to the people. That's how Schala met that Melleck girl.

But Janus had no friends except for his cat. Leoric wasn't around to push him into meeting with the other children and he was too shy to approach them on his own. And even if he did, shy people can be bullied easily.

Melchoir frowned. Gaspar had problems socializing too. When he met Gaspar, the future Time Guru was still in college studying history and physics. He was attempting to get into fraternities, but was rejected because of his bookish and geeky nature. He was mocked and bullied, but when he met Melchoir and later Belthasar they began to look after him. And they continued to watch over him long after college.

The Life Guru stroked his chin for a moment before standing up.

Melchoir: Janus, I've got something I need to take care of. You can work on your own, right?

Janus: What? Oh, yeah. I can do that.

Melchoir: Great. I'll be back as soon as I can.

Melchoir takes his cane in hand and walks through the door into the hall.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Prophet was sitting on a bench in the gardens on the outer relm of the palace. The Queen had gone to get a progress report on the new Mammoth Machine from Belthasar in Kasar. But the Prophet felt no wish to go with her so here he was, sitting in the sunlight. The hood of his cowl was still over his eyes, filtering out the brightness of the sun. A breeze played upon his face, swaying the cloak gently and carrying the scent of the Sacred Lotus flowers that were blooming just a short distance away. It was really quite relaxing. He considered just taking a nap righthere until the queen returned.

Lucanous: Shine your boots, mister?

He looked down. The boy was kneeling at his feet, holding a small box with a shoe-platform on top. On a shelf at the side was a can of polish and a brush. Lucanous was peering at him. A moment ago he had a slight smile upon the Prophet's lips, but now his face seemed strangely blank and expressionless.

Lucanous: Sir?

The Prophet rose slowly from his chair, eyes still at the boy at his feet. He then looked up and walked away. But his first step landed upon Lucanous's right hand. The boy let out a scream, tears forming in his eyes as he heard something crack under the oracle's boot. The next instant the Prophet was walking down the path to the palace, distancing himself from the child as though nothing had happened.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

In Kajar, Zeal was strolling up and down Belthasar's lab, the guru moving alongside her as she surveyed the numberous scientists working to make the dream of the Mammoth Machine a reality.

Belthasar: Another two weeks and we'll be done. Of course, we've had to take some of the workers off the Tab project so they could work on the Mammoth Machine full-time.

Zeal: The Tab project isn't of as great importance as this.

Belthasar: Oh, of course not, highness. But it was worth continuing all the same.

Zeal: Did you set up that locking system I asked you for?

Belthasar: On the Mammoth Machine? Yes, all inner council members can open the doors to the chamber by focusing their magic through certain objects I've enchanted. You have your ruby key, Schala as her pendent, Melchoir as his cane, I-

At that moment, Melchoir barged in through the main gate, limping toward the Queen as fast as possible.

Melchoir: Highness, I must speak with you!

Zeal: Melchoir? Aren't you supposed to be watching Janus?

Melchoir: He's fine. But we need to speak about Gaspar.

Zeal: Gaspar? What the devil do you mean?

Melchoir: I'd like to learn some more specific details about his robbery.

Zeal: What's to be learned? I came home late after checking the Mammoth Machine and found him attempting to unlock the royal vault. I shot him with a spell and ordered his banishment.

Melchoir: But did you question him? What type of instruments or spells was he using to unlock the vault? Where there any witnesses aside from yourself?

Zeal: Why all the questions, Guru? Something on your mind.

Melchoir: Highness, with all due respect, it's difficult for me to believe that Gaspar would attempt to steal from the royal vault. It's just hard to swallow.

A frown appears on the queen's brow as she turns toward the Guru with a cross look on her face.

Zeal: What are you implying, Melchoir?

Melchoir: I just don't-

Zeal: Are you calling me a liar? Because if you are, I'd rather you said it outright.

Melchoir: I didn't say you were a liar, Milady. I-

Zeal: _(crossly) _I banished Gaspar because he was a thief and therefore an endangerment to the security of the people. I don't need people second-guessing my decisions as ruler.

Her highness serveys the two scholars, looking from one to the other crossly. Melchoir swallows as Belthasar stands a next to him looking nervous.

Melchoir: Milady, no one here is second-guessing your decisions. You're the cheif authority here.

Zeal: Damn right.

Melchoir: But we refuse to believe Gaspar would commit grand larceny simply because you cut his budget. Don't we Belthasar?

The Life Guru turns to his comrade, looking for support. But Zeal looks at him as well, with a glare that would give children nightmares. Belthasar looks from one to the other, pulling out a blue hankerchief and running it over his sweaty face.

Belthasar: Yes, well... I suppose that if you need money... you might do things you wouldn't have considered before.

Melchoir: Bel, you can't believe that! He was still going to get a paycheck, he was just going to work in archives, that's all.

Zeal puts her hand on Belthasar's shoulder, moving to lead him away from Melchoir.

Zeal: There. Now Belthasar, continuing with the progress report-

Melchoir turned away from Belthasar and toward his Queen. He took a deep breath and let loose the Seventy-Five Million Dollar Question.

Melchoir: Highness, did you really see Gaspar lifting from the vault or was it just an excuse to get rid of him?

Zeal stops, blinking. She turns back to the Guru, her face a mix of anger and shock.

Zeal: What did you just say?

Melchoir: Did you just wish to banish Gaspar and make the story up?

Zeal stares at Melchoir for a moment with an expression of both deep thought and boiling anger. She blinks, and her eyes suddenly shift colors, moving back and forth accoss the rainbow. Finally she speaks.

Zeal: _(Quietly) _You rambling old cripple.

Her right hand becomes engulfed with a flame that's shifting through the light spectrum like her eyes. In the blink of an eye, she raises her fist and hits Melchoir in the side of the head. Belthasar shouts some useless warning as his schoolmate's sunglasses and hat fall away and he's knocked onto the hard floor, landing on his cane. The color shifting of the Queen's eyes and the flame on her hand fade.

Zeal: Bring him to Mount Woe under the care of Gaia Gaia. I don't want to see him again.

Zeal turns on her heel, leaving a horrified Belthasar behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Things are starting to wind up. There are 4 chapters left... I have some notes on this chapter, hope you'll indulge me...

The description Melchoir gave for little boy's behavior is from one of my favorite Who songs- I'm A Boy. I was playing their best hits CD while I was typing and it came on just as I was on that part. Weird.

Masa and Mune are fun. I'd like to start opening chapters with a little bit between them. Start off from now on with a little humor from those two. I should mention that I'd like to explore Mount Woe more in a futurechapter. It's another part of Zeal society I wanna go into. It's fun to take elements from the game and fit them into what I think Zeal is, and I've got an idea for Mount Woe.

By the way, in keeping with the tradition set by Ozzie, Slash, and Flea all the names of the Mystics from the flashback were taken from rock stars. Some of them (like Starkey, Tankian, Townshed, and Mercury) I'm really big fans of. Others (like Hammet, Hetfield, and Jagger) I'm less then enthusiastic about. Here's a list...

Hench- Townshed (The Who composer and guiter player)  
Hench- Hetfield (Metallica Songwriter and vocalist)  
Hench- Hammet (Metallica lead guitarist)  
Outlaw- Epstein (Bealtes manager)  
Outlaw- Jagger (Rolling Stones band leader)  
Unspecified Mystic- Simmons (KISS band leader, note how they mention him wearing make-up)  
Juggler- Mercury (Queen Lead Singer)  
Juggler- Zappa (Guitar legend)  
Imp- Starkey (Real name of the Beatle's drummer Ringo Starr, joke on how Ringo was short, plus the names of the other Bealtes would've been too recognizable)  
Sorcerer- Tankian (SoaD lead singer)

Anyway, leave a review. It really makes me feel good to go to my e-mail inbox and see a review notice waiting there for me. I'd love to hear from you.


	7. Chapter 7

Yes, I know it's been three months. So sorry. I uh... guess I've been busy. Well, I have alot to say at the end of this chapter, but until then... enjoy!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was a rare type of day in Zeal. The climate control had decided that today it would rain. This was uncommon, as the plants in Zeal didn't really require rain. Pulses of magic were sent into the soil every day to make sure the plants got a large amount of nutrients and hydration. But every seventh or eighth day, there would be a cool rain. The bright sunny days and the relaxing rainy ones were the only types of weather Zeal knew, unless you counted the snow that only fell on Christmas. There was little difference to the citizens. Since clothes could dry themselves once the wearer went indoors and rain no longer carried the risk of colds, people could go about their daily routines as though there was nothing wrong.

Many Zealians had abandoned the thought that rain would make you gloomy and sunshine made you happy.

It was in Kajar that Masa and Mune sat on the railing of a balcony as the rain fell. Both sighed in unison.

Mune: He's still gone. Poor old man.

Masa: He's in an even worse position then Gaspar. At least everybody knows where he is. But Melchoir's on Mount Woe. Even if someone went to find him, when you go there you have a chance of getting lost and never coming back.

Mune: I dunno. Is Son of Sun as strong as Gaia Gaia?

Masa: He was our creator but we didn't even get to know him for a week.

Mune: The real shame is that he was banished because of a conspiracy.

Masa: Yeah, he... wait, what?

Masa turns to look at his brother, who raises a finger thoughtfully.

Mune: Yeah, see I've got it all figured out, Ni-san. You remember how Doreen said that Melchoir got alot of weapon orders when King Leoric got killed?

Masa: (Nods) Right, it frightened people and they wanted to protect themselves.

Mune: Well, I looked in Melchoir's books, and when that Gaspar guy got banished, weapon sales went up again!

Masa: Uh...

Mune stands up, really getting into his story.

Mune: So I figure that the queen is raising these charges against the gurus to keep the weapons sales going up and keep the economy going. Granted Melchoir isn't the one taking the orders anymore, but other blacksmiths can fill the gap! It's a conspiracy, and if we can just gather the evidence needed to unmask the Queen's evil plot, we can get the old man back! See what I'm saying?

Masa blinks at his brother.

Masa: Mune, I think there's a wind blowing in your skull.

Mune: You take that back, Ni-san!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Rain hit the windows of the office, splattering noisily onto the walls and glass. Belthasar sat with his head propped on his arm looking into the streets out the window idlely. The Nu was snoozing in front of the fire. There was a knock on the door and a man poked his head in, but the guru didn't look up.

Scientist Pickering: Sir, I have the report for the newest shipment of Dreamstone.

Belthasar: That's fine. Leave it by the door there, Pickering.

Pickering complies and puts the papers on a table by the door.

Scientist Pickering: Uh... sir, Shouldn't you be working on the Mammoth Machine? It's almost done, after all.

Belthasar: Later. I don't feel much up to working right now.

Pickering took it that Belthasar didn't feel up to talking either, and quickly stepped out. The eldest, and now only, Guru remained where he was as though he had never walked in.

Every little thing he looked at reminded him of Melchoir and Gaspar. The smell of Dreamstone. Idle history books. Old men that walked with canes. Young men who stuttered. Even the rain had been specifically redesigned by Gaspar to remove any health risks it may cause on its own. There was no escape from the thought of his surrogate brothers.

His brothers who depended on him. When Melchoir chose to speak out over Gaspar's banishment, he counted on Belthasar's support. Belthasar alone still meant something to the queen. Without him the Mammoth Machine could never be completed, and if chose to go on strike, the Queen would need to give in.

The machine was so close to completion now, but with each passing day, Belthasar could spend still less time focused on his duty to his creation. He could only sit and ponder depressed on the lingering thoughts of his lost comrades.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dalton: Let's take it up from the beginning. Again.

The general was bored out of his skull. These lessons were going nowhere fast and he could think of at least a dozen other things he could be doing. He glanced at the struggling boy across from him, wondering why the hell he even bothered coming to class.

With the two of the three Gurus sent out of the country and new ones not yet appointed, Dalton had now completely taken over the Prince's schooling. Her highness had insisted that Belthasar not bother and spend as much time possible completing the Mammoth Machine. Hence the General was now spending every weekday sitting at a wooden table across from a kid who couldn't do magic if his life depended on it.

Every minute ticked by so slowly as he listened to the rain and the boy's struggles. It was a driving him insane! Why was he even here? To offer advice on how to use something the boy didn't even have? He was constantly wrestling with the impulse to just scream in the little bastard's face and leave. But of course, when the kid's mother is the queen, that would be a really stupid thing to do.

As Dalton began to contemplate for the hundredith time that day killing himself with the knife in his boot, the door opened. Her highness appeared in the doorway. The Prince turned in his seat to look at her as the one-eyed general just gapped.

Zeal: This a bad time, Dalton?

Dalton: Um-

Zeal: Beautiful.

Janus: Is something wrong, mama?

The Queen stepped into the room, shaking her head in a somewhat arrogant manner.

Zeal: Wrong? Of course not. I'm just not quite as busy as I thought I'd be today, so I thought I might spend a rainy day with my children is all.

Janus perks up, looking much happier.

Janus: Really?

Zeal: Of course, sweetie. If I've nothing else to do, what better? Of course that'll mean cutting your day short. But I'm sure Dalton doesn't mind do you, Dalton?

Dalton: Mind?

Dalton gets out of his chair, taking his cape off its back and draping it onto his shoulders. Like the Prince, he seems in a much better mood then he was a moment ago.

Dalton: Of course not, highness. As a matter of fact, there's a little bit of business I thought I could only take care of later tonight but if you'll be taking the Prince for the _whole day_...

Zeal: Yes, I'll just need to fetch his sister. What kind of business do you mean?

Dalton: Oh, just some unimportant military details. Pretty boring stuff, but might as well get it done now.

Zeal: That's the spirit, Dalton! No time like the present!

Dalton: Indeed. You ladyship...

Dalton salutes the Queen and moves past her hurridly into the hall. Zeal turns to her son happily.

Zeal: Shall we go?

Janus hops out his chair as Alfador leaps off the table. They move to her side and leave behind the gloomy classroom behind.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

In spite of his personal faults, Dalton was not undeserving of his post as head of the Zealian army.

Dalton had graduated top in his class in college. In fact, he was technically Dr. Usupus Dalton after receiving his doctorate in Engineering at Kajar Central Acadamy. He had even gone back to earn a bachelor's degree in Magestic Alchemy. His intelligence, combined with his superb flare for magic, led many to believe he'd join Belthsar's research team in Kajar. Many were surprised when he enlisted in the military.

He rose quickly in the ranks. He utilized methods of animating large husks of rock into soldiers. The practice of using Majestic Alchemy to create Golems had been common since it's conception in the Great War, and over the years the creatures had been created from almost every material imaginable- from stone, to water, to plastic, to frogs (Many had combined two or more materials with interesting results). But while Dalton used just plain stone, he could enhance the toughness of it to such a point that they would be almost impossible to destroy with conventional weaponry.

What's more, he removed the weakness Golems had to magic by using rock that contained trace amounts of Dreamstone. It allowed his Golems to temporarily emulate the magical spells used against them, throwing their opponent's weapons right back in their faces. To cap things off, the life-binding charm Dalton had used in creating his Golems was so potent that they could go months or even years before being again reduced to lifeless piles of their own raw components. Some even suggested that the king himself wouldn't even be able to defeat these Golems. Others scoffed, saying that the Golems could only copy offensive magic and Leoric would've found a way around that. Many had tried to mimic Dalton's designs, resulting in knock-offs that were ultimately less then effective.

But this was peanuts compared to Dalton's greatest discovery. Shortly before the disappearance of his predecessor, General Horonus, Dalton discovered a pocket dimension existing outside normal space. While he had no idea what could have formed this dimension or why, but through focusing his magical power, he found he could open small portals into this universe. The problem was that if the dimension is empty and a portal opens, it creates a vortex and the portal can't be closed until something is sucked in.

When Dalton first opened a gateway to this dimension, he found this out the hard way when one of his Golems was sucked in. But he found that the Golems could survive in the void of that dimension and that as long as something was present there when he opened his portals, he could control what came in and what came out. With this in mind, he began to store his Golems in the void, releasing them if ever necessary.

With the silence of his room, the general opened the portal.

Dalton: I've gotta job for you.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Schala was walking on a part of the palace near the outer gardens. There was a strip of small shops here, and the sidewalk outside was covered, keeping her out of the rain. The smell of rain was mixing with the Sacred Lotus flowers, making a very fresh, pleasant scent. There were very few people around, and she had come here to look at all the different items in the windows when she heard her name being called.

Melleck: Schala! Hey, Schala!

The princess turned to see Melleck running up her from the other side of the walkway.

Schala: Hey, Melleck!

Melleck: Haven't seen you in a while.

Schala: Well, I've been real busy.

Melleck: Tell me about it. I got a job a coffee shop in Kajar.

Still keeping up conversation, the two stop in front of one of the shops. Melleck sits down on a bench while Schala remains standing beside her.

Schala: Really? What's it like?

Melleck: It's all right, but never mind that! Tell me about the council! What was that Prophet guy like?

Schala: He's really nice.

Melleck: No way! Somebody that creepy?

Schala: Yeah, seriously. He makes alot of great decisions while he's on the council.

Melleck: _(Raises eyebrow) _Has anybody seen his face yet?

Schala: Well... no. But that doesn't mean we can't like him. He's smart and considerate... a little cold at times but he can be pretty funny that... What?

Melleck was blankly staring at Schala's face.

Schala: What is it?

Melleck: Schala, he's way too old for you.

Schala: _(blush) _I don't mean anything like that! He's just a nice guy to know, alright?

Lucanous: Shine you shoes miss- oh...

A boy carrying a shoe-platform had appeared during the two friends conversation. In the middle of requesting his services however, he seemed to realize just to whom he was speaking and took a step back, intimidated. Schala didn't seem to take notice though, and smiled down at him.

Schala: Sorry, but I wear sandles.

To prove her point, she rose the hem of her robes to show her feet. Melleck however, rose a finger.

Melleck: I'll take a shine, kid.

She put her foot onto the boy's pedestal, and he began to polish. He was having an awkward time doing working his brush though, as his right hand was in a cast. As he worked, the two girls turned to each other and just continued their conversation.

Melleck: I mean really, he's old enough to be your dad.

Schala: He's not that old! If anything he could be my older brother.

Melleck: Uh... Speaking of which, how is your brother?

Schala: Janus? He's fine. But he's gotten quieter and a little more attatched to me in the past week or so, though. Not sure why.

His face becoming sweaty, Lucanous began to scrub faster with his brush.

Melleck: Well, uh... did you hear what they're saying about him now?

Schala: _(cooly) _You mean that he's the "Earthbound Prince?"

Melleck: Well... yeah. I mean, I hear he couldn't do magic if his life depended on it.

Schala said nothing, but just stared at Melleck with an annoyed look on her face.

Melleck: _(Nervously) _Hey, uh... don't take it personally. I just... y'know, I just wanted to see if it was true.

Schala: _(cooly)_ He hasn't cast a spell yet, no. But I fail to believe that Zeal is has become so arrogant that it won't let itself be ruled by someone without magic.

Melleck: Um... right. Of course. I just heard that he ran into some kids last week.

At this news, Schala blinks and looks at her friend closer.

Schala: What do you mean?

Melleck: My aunt told me about it. She's got a friend that works as a gardner in the courtyards, and he said-

Lucanous: All done!

Lucanous straightens up, but his brush and polish hurridly back onto his pedestal.

Lucanous: Uh... no charges, miss.

Melleck: Hey, wait!

But the boy was gone, running down the boardwalk away from the two girls.

Melleck: Kid only got one shoe done.

Lucanous was running down the walkway, trying to put as much distance between him and the princess as possible. As he neared the end though, he saw something that didn't make him feel any safer- Janus and his mother had come from around the corner, chatting idlely. He closed his eyes, brought his head down, and just ran past them without stopping. The prince however, recognized him all the same and on impulse, reached up to clutch his mother's hand until the boy had passed them.

Zeal: _(Blinks)_ Something wrong?

Janus: What? Oh! _(blushes and lets go) _Sorry.

Zeal: There she is. Schala!

The princess looks up from her conversation with Melleck to see her mother waving at her from down the boardwalk. Melleck stands up respectfully as they approach.

Janus: Ne-Chan!

Zeal: We've been looking for you. You're not busy, are you?

Schala looks slightly addled; she and Melleck had just stopped talking as the Queen appeared. But she recovers herself.

Schala: Uh... No, I was just window shopping.

Zeal: Oh, that's nice. I was thinking the three of us could spend the day together.

Schala: Really?

Zeal: Of course. It's not that shocking, is it?

Schala: Uh... no. Of course not, mother.

Zeal: Great. Let's get moving. _(To Melleck) _You'll excuse us, Mallax.

Melleck: _(Bows politely) _Yes, Majesty.

The three of them head back toward the castle, and behind their mother's back, Schala glances at Janus, worried.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dalton treadded down the hallways on the palace. Through the windows, there was nothing visible beyond the rainwater pouring down the panes. There was no horizon or sunlight feilds, only a veil of murky greyness. Occationally one of the guards from outside would drift by the glass, making a dark shadow move across eerilly. Finally, the General arrived at the marble white door, which he opened quickly without knocking.

It was only for the briefest of seconds. The Prophet was sitting at a desk, his back to the door, light from the hall pouring into the poorly illuminated room. The light was in the square shape of the doorway, punctured by Dalton's shadow in its center. In the instant after Dalton opened the door, the Prophet grabbed his hood and pulled it back over his head. But during that tiny blip of time, the General could've sworn he'd seen a veil of silvery-blue hair covering the back of his skull. Almost as soon as Dalton considered this, he dismissed it as his imagination once the hood was back up. Only Royal blood carried the genes for cerulean hair, and nobody's had such a white tint of what he saw.

While the move to cover his face was lightning-fast, the Prophet's next moves were slow. He half-turned with a very listless, intimidating air toward the doorway.

The Prophet: Shut that door.

With a smirk, the General stepped in and obeyed. Once it was closed, the pupil of Dalton's eye grew to a huge size. The only light in the room was a candle on The Prophet's desk. It barely flickered, instead holding its position with a weak glow but an uncommonly bright shade of orange. No noises could be heard but the rain still slamming down in buckets on the roof and a rolling thunder in the distance. Other then that, there was an eerie and bizzare silence to the scene. Dalton briefly wondered if the oracle had enchanted his room to be quiet. He couldn't even hear the seated man's breathing.

The Prophet: Something on your mind?

Dalton: A few things, yeah.

The Prophet: Have a seat.

Dalton looked around. The room was much smaller then his. Even the gurus had bigger (and certainly better furnished) bedrooms then this. The only peices of furniture were the desk, the chair, a large curtained bed which took up much of the floorspace, an empty and deserted coatrack, and an umbrella stand- in which Dalton noticed with a shudder, was a large, shining sickle. Without any chairs, Dalton sat down on the end of the bed, which was firm with crispy, well-pressed sheets.

The Prophet was sitting looking at him from his desk. Dalton survied it, comparing it to the other furniture. While the bed and umbrella stand were well-carved and ornate (like all other furniture in Zeal) the desk and chair were made of crappy common wood. The coat-rack was chipped and faded, adding to the lonely look it had about it. The oracle reached to leather gloves that were sitting folded on the desktop. Dalton noticed that his hands were bare for the first time since the Prophet's arrival so many months ago. They seemed so pale they were almost spectre-like in appearance, glowing in the darkness.

He pulled on his first glove. The sound of tightening leather went through the room.

The Prophet: What seems to be the problem?

Dalton: You're my problem.

Slowly, calmly, The Prophet pulled on his other glove, again making the intimidating leather sound. Dalton speaks out again in the hushed, calm voice they've been exchanging since the start of this conversation. Dalton noticably did not seem angry, but had the air of a man with total control of his situation.

Dalton: Who the hell are you? What did you do to the Queen to make her obey you?

The Prophet says nothing. There is only the sound of the rain outside.

Dalton: What do you want here?

The Prophet: I have come to rule.

Dalton: Rule?

The general peers carefully with his eye.

Dalton: Queenie's golden boy is planning a coup?

The Prophet: Certainly not. I shall acquire the throne through perfectly legitimate means.

Dalton: (smirking, stroking chin) Hmm... I don't think there's a law about what will happen if all members of the royal family are killed at once. You're planning on slaughtering the Queen and her brats and taking control during the ensuing domestic chaos, aren't you?

The Prophet: You sound like you've given the matter quite a bit of thought, but no.

There is a brief pause.

Dalton: Do think Zeal's just gonna offer you her crown?

The Prophet: That's exactly what she'll do.

Dalton: Why would she do that for you?

Dalton leans forward, his voice momentarily becoming more hushed.

Dalton: You into her, Prophet? She call you in her room at night? Touch you in the dark?

The Prophet: Dalton, you have no idea how horribly disgusting that would be.

Dalton: Whatsa matter? Too old for you? Granted, she's likely pushing forty but...

He makes a gesture to say that she might she might be a fair catch anyways, but then looks back at the Prophet.

Dalton: So she know that she'll be giving you the crown?

The Prophet: No.

Dalton: 'Course not. 'Course not. Bet she'd be happy to find out now, though, huh?

The Prophet: Who's gonna tell her? You?

There is pause, during which time Dalton's face stops looking so smug.

The Prophet: Do you think that a single person in this palace will take your word over mine?

Dalton: Fuck you, faceless.

The General stands up, irritated, but keeping his voice hushed and civil.

Dalton: I've been here for years. I was appointed by Leoric himself. I don't think you even have a position in this government.

The Prophet: No official position, no.

Dalton: So technically, you don't even work here. Why would anyone listen to you?

The Prophet remains calm, not smirking but retaining an air of control and finesse as he slowly chooses his next words.

The Prophet: Dalton, a moment ago you asked if the Queen "touched me in the dark."

Dalton: Yeah?

The Prophet: I can tell you perfectly well- she doesn't.

Dalton: Okay, then.

The Prophet: But I believe she wants to.

There is a shocking pause following these words.

The Prophet: She has been alone for so long. Her mind has not been taken from her fully, and she still finds herself distracted and attracted to the things on this plane of reality. Like her children. And me.

Dalton: You're snuffing the queen?

The Prophet: Well, she hasn't made any _official _offers yet.

Dalton: You're disgusting.

Dalton stares at the Prophet, bringing an air of finality to his words.

Dalton: You don't belong here. You're nothing but a conman in a veil, bullshitting the big-wigs with your "predictions" and shadowy metaphors, contributing nothing to the project or the country and usurping glory from those who deserve it.

The Prophet says nothing for a moment.

The Prophet: That is your opinion, Dalton, and your are certainly free to express it to whoever you choose.

He stands as well, still several feet away from the general but much taller.

The Prophet: But as long as we are being honest with one another... You are nothing more then a vain and greedy prettyboy who should by all rights have stopped climbing the ladder at middle-management. Your job is done with a flavor of lazy selfishness that can only come from you, as you constantly struggle to barely teeter on the edge of alcoholism.

There is one last drawn-out silence as the two men stare at each other with impassive faces.

The Prophet: I think, as two gentlemen, we have nothing more to say to each other.

Dalton: Not as gentlemen, no. I should go.

The Prophet: Please do.

Dalton turns and strolls to the door. He opens it, bringing in the light from the hall once more before stepping out. In the solitude, The Prophet remains still for a moment. Then he sits back down at his desk and begins writing.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken and The Prophet wheels around in surprise. The sound of a rushing wind like a vacuum has come from nowhere. An inky black portal opens in the center of the room, a great purple beast in the center.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

In contrast to the gloomy darkness of the Prophet's bedroom, the lanterns of the Queen's chambers were lit upon the walls. Everything was brightly illuminated giving the room a cheery, uplifting feel as the rain fell outside. Zeal had removed her heels, a rare instance for her in the middle of the day, and discarded them on the marble floor. She was lying on her back in her round, king-sized bed, stretching out her arms over the silk sheets as she looked at the curtain over her. Schala and Janus were seated on the bed's edges on either side of her as she sighed, relieved.

Zeal: It's been so long since I has able to lie back and relax. The Mammoth Machine's been taking up all my time. And tomarrow the Prophet and I have to reveiw applicants for the open Guru positions.

Janus: Everyone sure seems busy, yeah...

Zeal: I'm so tensed up I can barely move.

Schala: Have you tried massages? Melchoir said they were really good.

Zeal: Dear, very few people are able to give a good massage to a queen. It's very nerve-racking to touch the King's widow. Very distracting.

Stretching her arms as her children giggle, Zeal groans.

Zeal: Oh, that feels good. Janus, anything new happening with you?

Janus: _(Caught off-guard) _What?

Zeal: I thought I heard some maids mention your name when I was reading the paper with morning but when I looked back they had gone.

Janus: Oh, uh... nothing's happening. Same old, same old.

Schala looks for a moment that she's going to say something, but seems to think better of it. A thunderclap sounds and Zeal eyes Janus.

Janus: What?

Zeal: Hm. You don't seem afraid of lightning anymore.

Janus: (slightly insulted) Of course not! I'm seven now, Mama.

Zeal: (Playfully) Of course not. How silly of me. (turning to Schala) What about you, Schala? Anything I should know about?

Schala: Me? Oh, no. Not really.

Zeal: Pity. I'd had hoped you'd be looking for a boyfriend around now.

Schala: _(Blush) _M-Mother!

Zeal: Maybe Leoric was right about you two needing to mingle with the commoners. I never supported it too much, but I guess he'd be the man to ask. You're getting older now, Schala; maybe time to shop around a bit.

Schala: _(Blush) _I... I don't know what you'd mean by that.

Janus: _(Grin) _I don't think I've ever seen you with a boy, Schala.

Zeal: Not one your own age, anyway.

Schala: _(Blush) _You two are horrible.

Zeal and Janus both laugh and the queen sighs contently.

Zeal: The Prophet. I think he's done quite well since he's been here.

Schala: Yeah, he's really fit in. Have you met him, Janus?

Janus: Oh... Uh...

Schala: I should introduce you. I think you'd get along pretty well.

Janus: _(nervous) _No, that's okay. I uh... I don't wanna bother him.

Zeal: Once this machine is done, we'll have so much to look forward to. I can't wait for you two to see it. In its full glory.

Getting up off the end of her bed, the Queen walks over to the mirror by the wall.

Zeal: You're still young, you see. Lavos is the future. You're the ones who will be able to really appriciate the magnitude of its coming.

Janus: Uh... what exactly is Lavos, mama?

Looking at her image in the mirror, Zeal closes her eyes and smiles.

Zeal: It's a star, Janus. A brilliant red star.

She sits down and begins to brush her long blue hair.

Zeal: But that's still a ways off. We'll just have to wait until it comes. In the meantime I have you two.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

His face was slammed against the wall of his room, the beast's jagged stone hand clutching the back of his skull. Growling he let loose a pulse of lightning, suddenly illuminating the dark room and tossing the creature onto the bed, whose legs collapsed on the impact. Eyes flaring, the Prophet spun, his hands becoming engulfed in flame. But as he turned to face the beast again, the tsunami of lightning he brought out was regurgatated back at him, every bolt a mirror image to the one he had just set loose.

He kept his footing, remaining balanced as he heard the beast letting out a low laugh. Dalton apparently had a Golem with lightning magic. A powerful one, too. As he listened to the pile of animated gravel smugly laughing through his nose, he suddenly shot a pair of fireballs directly into his mouth. The laughter ceased, the flames so great two tiny flares came out from its eyes. The beast keeled over in mid-air coughing up a pile of ash that the Prophet guessed, with much pleasure, used to be his tongue. Glaring, it rose the tiny part of its surface that could be called its face and opened his mouth. The Prophet barely got away. In a whirl of his cloak he appeared beside the beast as the flames struck the wall of the room harmlessly.

The castle of Zeal had been designed to withstand harsh force in case of a war. The walls of the palace could easily take the magic being thrown by the two combatants and not alert the people in the halls as to what was going on. The Prophet had read this, but now that he saw the Golem belching flames onto the wall where he stood just a moment ago, he could really appriciate the fine work that had gone into the palace's construction. But he pushed those thoughts out of his head. A shiver ran up his spine, splitting at his shoulders and running to the tips of his fingertips as he let a blizzard loose at his opponent.

The beast was in the process of turning toward him, intending to burn him with the hellfire flaring from between its teeth. But the cold that struck him was so severe it stopped him instantly, coating him in a wet layer of blue. The fire itself was trapped within the frost and fell to the floor, cracking. There was a pause, until the monster blinked. Still engulfed in the second skin of ice, it seemed to curl into a ball as best it could, as sharp spines of the frozen ice began to grow all over its body.

The Prophet whirled his cloak again, and it became a airtight velvet cocoon, contouring to his crouching shape. As the golem snapped back into place, the spines flew, peircing the bed, dresser, and desk, but shattering harmlessly upon the cloak. With another whirl, the Prophet threw it off.

He frowned. While Dalton was skilled at creating a Golem, he doubted the general would be able to make a being that could harness all the magical elements. Fire, Lightning, and Water were the three central elements to humans. While creatures like Masa and Mune and various golems had been created that could use other elements, a being able to use all three would be extremely complex. Shadow magic would give the creature command over these spells, but he doubted Dalton, or anyone else in the whole of Zeal, had managed to scratch the surface of Shadow magic, seeing how Zealian law made the practice was forbidden. As far as the Prophet knew, he was the first to use it since the Great War.

More then that, it seemed that the magical signature of the beast shifted when he attacked it. Was it possible...

The Prophet brought up his cloak on either side of him, so that it made a great shapeless silhouette. Out of the velvet woven fabric, a thick, black cloud zoomed forward into the beast, who screamed. It filled the room, seaping into every inch, every corner, filling the space between two dust particles. There could be nothing heard but the growls and cries of the helpless beast. Suddenly, the mist lurched, and receeded. It cleared, and the beast was revealed to be blinded, gropping around violently, helplessly in the dark. The Prophet stood before him, swirling his scythe in a slow dream-like motion above his head like a great bladed baton. The mist pooled into its whirling shape, like a forming galaxy.

The Prophet: I was right.

The beast screamed as he heard the voice of his prey. Raising its stubby arms it hurled a barrage of frozen quills forward. The oracle moved the twirlling sickle out from over his head into the path of the weapons, and they bounced off harmlessly to drive into the walls and ceiling.

The Prophet: He used Dreamstone and a blank magical signature to create you, letting you copy magic aimed at you.

He grinned.

The Prophet: But you can't copy Shadow magic, can you?

A black orb appeared in his limp gloved hand. Raising his scythe over his head again, he fired the Dark Bomb at his enemy. There was a sound, like an explosion that was almost soundless as the beast was swallowed by the darkness.

The ground floor of the Zealian palace apparently did not get the same attention as the walls, surmised the Prophet as the blast cleared. The bomb had blown a whole through the ground, showing the stormy gray sky below Zeal. The beast was clutching the rim of the hole, still wounded from the Dark Mist. Its fingertips were all that were saving it from falling into the cloudy abyss. The Prophet idlely stepped toward the helpless creature, still twirling his scythe, surreally above his head.

The Prophet: Your defense against magic isn't really that good. You partially absorb the force into your blank signature, avoiding the brunt of the attack. If you can't do that, you're actually quite weak against magic, like the other Golems people have made over the years.

Golem Boss: P-Please...

There was a low thunderclap easily audible through the hole, followed by a streak of blue lightning jumping from one cloud to another. The Prophet stopped turning his scythe, bringing it so that it pointed into the monster's face. The mist, no longer held in place immediately slid off the handle and blade, into the form of the helpless beast. It zoomed out the hole and dispersing into the air at the rocky brown bottom of the Zealian continent, tossed about by the violent wind. But the monster that should have fallen like the stone he was did not follow.

The Prophet pulled his scythe out of the hole, the blade embedded into the creature's back.

The Prophet: I should kill you... but there is something that compels me.

He made a swift motion with the scythe, throwing the beast off and into his desk, which crumbled into a mass of splinters.

The Prophet: My sister's time with me. She is so different then those Mystics. She's almost... holy, to say.

He strode to the door and opened it.

The Prophet: I'll send your maker to come fetch you.

The Golem Boss would not be the same. The closeness he came to the abyss of the sky had changed him. The sky was a frightening place to be.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was night. Rain was still falling on the windowpanes of the Queen's bedchambers, which was brightly lit by the orange glow of the lanterns on the walls. The queen was sitting at her mirror with Schala, talking. Janus had curled up at the end of the bed, apparently asleep, Alfador seated beside him.

Schala: (Looking in the mirror) Mother... Um... Do you think my hair's too big?

Zeal: You're thinking of cutting it?

Schala: No, it's just very... you know, poofy. Alot of volume, you know? ... Maybe I should wear it down.

Zeal: I think it looks fine on you, dear.

Schala: It doesn't look weird when I wear it up like this?

Zeal: I think so. If you wore it down it might cover your face, that's just something you don't need.

Smiling, Zeal stands up and walks toward Janus, who's lightly sleeping on the bed. She slides her arms under him, picking him up. The child stirs for a moment but doesn't wake.

Zeal: He's getting big.

Schala: He's seven, mother.

Zeal: Yes, I know.

The queen turns, walking slowly back toward her daughter. Alfador hops off the bed, following at her ankles.

Zeal: Sometimes I wonder if I'm really enough for you children. I think Janus would espicially benefit if he had someone else here. Someone strong that he could look up to.

Schala: (sadly) Yes, I think that if Janus ever knew father, he'd be different.

Zeal: I didn't say Leoric, Schala. I think there are other people that would better qualify to be mentors to Janus.

Schala: You mean the gurus?

Zeal: No. I mean someone awe-inspiring. Someone he can admire.

Schala: Mother... do you think I coddle Janus too much?

Zeal: No, Schala. Someone in his position needs a person like you to take care of him. And you do that so well.

Schala: Thanks... Mama.

Zeal shifts the child into Schala's arms.

Zeal: I'm getting a status report from Belthasar concerning the Mammoth Machine in an hour. Put him to bed, then meet me in the council room.

Schala: Alright.

The princess stands up, walking out of the room and turning down the hall. She walks over the carpetted floor slowly heading toward Janus's room. As Alfador follows at her heels, Schala looks sadly at the child in her arms.

Schala: Janus, if you're being bullied, you know you can tell me. I know it can be...

She pauses, thinking.

Schala: Actually, I don't know. When I was talented at my lessons and popular among the people. Everyone seemed to love me. But... even though you're intelligent, your lessons don't go as smoothly. And it seems people don't think too highly of those without magic.

Arriving at Janus's bedroom, she pauses to rub her face kindly into her sleeping brother's form.

Schala: Oh, but Janus, I love you. I don't want you to suffer the way you do.

With some difficulty due to holding Janus, Schala opens the door to his room before putting him gently into bed. As she pulls his sheets over him, Alfador leaps up beside him.

Schala: We'll talk about it tomarrow. You'll feel better when we do.

She walks out, closing the door behind her.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal stepped into the large, silent Council Room, moving wordlessly past Dalton and Belthasar toward her throne. The chamber was eerilly quiet and hallow tonight, the sound of rain on the ceiling the loudest noise in the room. There were two people recently taken off the council and two more had yet to arrive, so it seemed so very empty tonight, and even spacier and larger a chamber then usual.

The Queen's voice broke the silence briefly as she sat upon her throne.

Zeal: I understand there was some commotion among the Earthbound today?

Belthasar: (Disinterested) Hm? Oh, they said they found a strange sphere in one of the backwater caves. Upset them a bit. Thought it might be magic.

Zeal: Doesn't sound too important. I'll have some men head down there to demolish the cave.

There was a pause. Nobody seemed to have anything to say to each other, or even any interest in each other. Zeal, perhaps to break the ice, spoke once again.

Zeal: Schala is on her way, and The Prophet as been informed of this report, so I imagine he'll be here shortly.

Dalton turned away from the throne toward the door, hiding his smile as best as he could. As he looked at the door though, his eye suddenly bugged out as The Prophet nonchalantly walked in and made his way to the throne.

The Prophet: Sorry I'm late. Didn't start without me, did you?

Zeal: Of course not. We couldn't do that.

The Prophet passed Dalton, who turned to watch him, mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. He rose a finger as if to say something, but no words immitted from his mouth.

The Prophet: You're too kind, majesty.

As the oracle stood at his usual spot beside the queen, he casually glanced at Dalton behind his veil.

The Prophet: (Still adressing the Queen) By the way, highness, I'd like to move into a different room of the palace.

Zeal: Of course, I told you when you arrived that room was far too small for you. What made you change your mind?

The Prophet: Well, I liked it at first but it seems to have become a meeting place for dumb animals.

Zeal: Hmmm... That's a new excuse.

The Prophet: Any reason why we're having this progress report presented to the entire council?

Belthasar: You'll see once the princess gets here.

There's silence for a moment. Dalton, still in an awed daze steps slowly toward the Prophet, looking over him for bruises on his cheeks or tears on his clothes. As soon as the general is within arms reach, The Prophet raises a gloved hand against his chest to stop him.

The Prophet: Excuse me, personal space.

Dalton: (gaping) But... I... ah...

The Prophet: Don't get me wrong, you have very nice hair, but I'm looking for more in a mate and I don't think we've known each other long enough.

Dalton: (Snaps out of it angrilly) What?

The Prophet: (cooly, smirking) We never even see each other outside of work, and I'm kinda going through some things right now. I just think it's the wrong time.

The Queen laughs loudly. Dalton growls, but his eye darts back and forth from The Prophet to her highness, and he steps back to his place away from the throne.

The door opens, and Schala steps in, smiling shyly.

Schala: Sorry I'm late.

Zeal: Not at all, dear. (In business-like tone) Now Belthasar, is there anything particular about this report that merits an entire council to be present when it's given?

Everyone turns to Belthasar. He's standing slightly apart from the others, silhouetted against the high windows along the walls. He's sweating, gripping his cane very tightly. The Nu is seated against the wall, sleeping.

Belthasar: Well, that's kind of it, you see. The entire council _isn't _present. Two're missing.

Zeal: (Nonchalantly) We're screening potential applicants for the vacant guru positions. Unfortunately, so many professors and wanna-be philosophers applied it may take a month or two.

The Prophet: Espicially since our army of pencil-pushers are a little busy with all the extra work about the Mammoth Machine.

Schala: Hmm... It's kind of weird to think about those positions being filled by anybody but Gaspar and Melchoir.

Belthasar: (Bluntly) The charges made against Melchoir were fake.

Everyone stared at Belthasar for a moment, as the rain outside seemed to accentuate the momentary silence. The Queen's face had taken on a grim, callous look, as though she knew what was coming.

Schala: But... but why would he be banished for no reason?

Belthasar: The only reason was that he was banished was because directly opposed the construction of the Mammoth Machine. I suspect Gaspar's banishment was for the same reason.

Schala: That can't be true. Right, mother?

Schala turns to the Queen, who sits staring at Belthasar, her face as impassive as ever.

Zeal: Belthasar, a new world is coming. The Mammoth Machine will re-make society as we know it. I have seen its potential, and I know that only the faithfull can truly stand before it. Those that reject or question its glory must be cast out. Into the cold. The question I would like for you to ask yourself right now, Belthasar, is do you want to remain in the inside and usher in the new dawn with us, or leave to fend for yourself?

Belthasar hesitates, thinking about Gaspar and Melchoir.

Belthasar: My friends are on the outside. I'd rather stay with them.

Zeal smiles and moves to rise from her throne.

Zeal: I see.

Belthasar: But the question _you _must ask yourself, highness, is how will you finish the Mammoth Machine without me?

Zeal stops immediately in place. As Schala looks horrified, the Queen says nothing for a moment. Quietly, but still loud enough for the others to hear, she questions the oracle standing slightly behind her.

Zeal: Prophet? Do we still need Belthasar at this point?

The Prophet: Beg pardon?

Zeal: The Mammoth Machine one week away from activation. Do we still need him overseeing everything, or can we just work this out for ourselves?

Schala: Mother, you're not going to banish Belthasar, are you?

The Prophet says nothing. Unseen behind his hood, his violet eyes fly from Belthasar to the Queen, to Schala.

True, Belthasar was probably less then essential at this point in production. The hands most likely already had everything they needed and he was only overseeing the activation progress and handling any unseen complications that might arise. While the Prophet could easily say that he was needed and keep him here, the Queen would then use force to keep him working on the project. In retaliation, Belthasar may attempt to sabotage the Mammoth Machine and ruin Lavos's arrival (and thus, The Prophet's chances for vengence). But if the Prophet said he wasn't nessecary for the machine's completion, he'd be disposed of quickly and the coming of Lavos would arrive all the sooner, and by extention, so would Magus's revenge and rise to power.

Yet at the same time, he was on the spot to give a decision on the matter. Schala was mere feet away, alternating from shocked stares at her mother to giving a sad, pleading look to the Prophet.

If he were to indirectly send Belthasar away, Schala would be hurt and angry with him. He didn't wish to do anything to pain her or cause her grief. What would Schala say if he were to throw the last Guru into the cold? Would she yell at him in anger? Would she cry about this betrayal? Or would she simply say nothing, and never speak to him again? The possible scenarios flew through his mind, each one sending him into a bigger panic.

Moments passed as everyone stared at the oracle from beyond. He says nothing, his face as expressionless as ever, while his brain debated with itself over the importance his plans of conquest against his sister's love and approval. Dalton blinks strangely. Had the oracle finally lost it?

Zeal: Prophet, I need a decision.

Whatever decision he made, he needed to make it now. He couldn't be revealed as a fraud in this stage of his plan and the longer he hesitated the more likely skepticism would arise in those around him. He tried reasoning the situation... He could very easily have Belthasar banished, then make up with his sister once Lavos was killed. He'd bring them back into the country as an apology and make up with her, finally having the precious, blessed reunion he'd been dreaming of for years.

The Prophet: No.

Short pause.

The Prophet: No, we don't need him. We can handle this on our own.

Zeal: Excellent. Dalton, detain him.

Schala: (shocked) What?

Dalton: Yes, highness!

Dalton put his anger toward the Prophet out of his mind for a moment as he walked toward the blue Guru, a flame appearing in his hand. But as he neared, the Nu's snoring suddenly stopped and its eyes opened ominously. He seemed to just materialize between Dalton and Belthasar. For a moment they locked eyes.

Dalton: You gotta problem, weirdy?

The Nu suddenly leaned backward, then snapped into a frontward lurch, bringing his cranium into Dalton's chest with a sickening "CRUNCH!" The general was knocked onto his back where he laid sprawled out.

Dalton: G-GOD DAMN!

Belthasar: Nu, no!

The blue beast was moving in for the kill, so to speak, toward the one-eyed-man's body.

Belthasar: It's... it's alright.

Dalton: I can't even move! What the hell _was _that?

Zeal: Guards!

As armed guards rush into the council room, Belthasar puts a hand caringly on the creature's small tuft of hair as they looked at each other longingly.

Belthasar: Just... take care of things, and the princess.

The Nu leaned forward again, this time gently nuzzling against the Guru's soft clothing. This was cut short as the elder was grabbed by the arms and dragged away.

Zeal ordered guards to carry Dalton to the infirmary, while Schala stood there shocked by what had just happened, the Prophet moving to her side.

Zeal: Just see if we can patch him up. There's alot about that creature we don't understand, so better get Dr. Rabbitan to look at him.

The Prophet: Schala...

The Prophet reaches to put a hand on his sister's shoulder when she wheeled around, yelling angrilly at the Prophet's hooded face.

Schala: How could you do that to him? How could you both decide to throw him out?

The Prophet: ... If he stayed in the country he'd try to sabotage the Mammoth Machine. I had to do it.

Schala: There are alot of things more important then that stupid machine, Prophet.

The Prophet: Sch-Schala!

The reached for her again, but she was gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There was a particularly harsh snowstorm on the Earthboard continent. If one were to stand still long enough, ice and frost would form on the surfaces of their eyes. The snow continued to pile up by the foot, but fortunately there was nobody to worry about. No Enlightened would go out in this weather, not even those that worked in the mines overseeing Earthbound progress. And the Earthbound, for whatever concern they rose, were safe in the Terra Cave, huddling together in their clumsily-carved houses.

No soul would go onto the continent for any reason until the storm blew over. So it was no surprise that nobody was watching the cave so recently scheduled for demolition. There was only a solitary snow-white rabbit in the cave, obviously attempting to hide from the cold. The rabbit was, for obvious reasons, scared and surprised to find a portal suddenly open and see three humans pop out.

The human in the center, one with tall head-hair stood up casually, dusting himself off. It was only a moment before the one to his left hugged his side, as though seeking protection.

Marle: Oh Crono, I'm cold! Where are we?

Crono seemed somewhat surprised at his friend's quick reaction, but smiled and put an arm around her. The other human, the tallest of them dressed in very revealing clothing, shuddered and hugged her large muscular arms.

Ayla: Marle right! It _am _cold! (To Crono) Ayla no like! Ayla want switch!

Nodding, Crono took out a small white sphere. He squeezed it, causing another, smaller portal to open. Ayla was seemingly pulled in, and a moment later another creature popped out. He was certainly not human, having bronze, metal skin and peircing green eyes.

Robo: Ah, a new Gate? Where are we?

Crono shrugged, making his way to the entrance, his two companions following.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Okay, now I get to say a few words.

First of all, I'm sorry this took so long to send out. I've kinda been neglecting it to focus on other stories... And to be honest this chapter has been finished for three months.

See... it has to do with how I've been writing this story. I don't submit a chapter here until I'm done with the chapter after that. I didn't submit chapter 1 until I finished chapter 2, I didn't submit chapter 2 until I finished chapter 3, And so on. I've just finished chapter eight, and I'll submit that once chapter 9 is finished. Although to be honest, 9 could take a while. Chapter 9 is really different and I haven't really mapped it out, so to speak. Plus I'm not sure how long it can be. But I promise that if it's more then a month I'll just go ahead and submit chapter 8 anyway instead of holding out.

Now, about this chapter... I liked how it came out. It's all very atmospheric and gloomy. Except for parts pertaining to the Queen, which I guess sort of shows how she appriciates luxary. My favorite part was the Dalton/Prophet dialouge. I think it came out very cool-sounding. I also liked doing the descriptions of Magus's attacks spells like the Dark Mist.

Also; Majestic Alchemy is just alchemy preformed through magic (such as making Chimeras and Golems). And yes, I did learn everything I know about alchemy from watching Fullmetal Alchemist. I called it "Majestic" because "magical alchemy" sounded kinda silly.

References; The idea that Dalton's portal sucks stuff in when nothing comes out came from Magus523's Chrono Trigger Novel. I've sampled all the novelizations of the game I could find, his was by far my favorite. Spekkio was just so cool... Anyways, the scene where Nu fights Dalton for trying to attack Belthasar is inspired by a certain scene from Empire Strikes Back. Y'know? When they're putting Han in carbonite and Chewie went nuts? Yeah, that one.

Oh, and I know there are sickos out there. But I do not support a weird-ass Schala/Magus pairing. The dialouge she had with Melleck was just comic relief. The two of them together would be disgusting and just plain bizarre. Same goes for a Magus/Zeal pairing.

Yeah. So, I'll have Chapter 8 here in a month at the most. But not sure how long Chapter 9 might be. Already working on its outline... In the meantime, try reading Magus523's Chrono Trigger Novel. Great piece of work. Or take a look in on my page for Very Chrono Christmas. I wrote it a while ago but I love how it came out, and I guess can't help but plug it...

Please, leave reviews. Reviews remind me that I have to work and really perk up my day. I love reading what you have to say. All reviews are welcome, even flames, and I'll try to reply if you're regestered. I'd love to hear from you...


	8. Chapter 8

And eight months later, here it is! Yeah, I got no excuse... We'll talk after the story. Enjoy!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal: So you think that these invaders mean harm to Zeal?

The Prophet: Probable. I've encountered them before. Their magical abilities are quite potent, if not crude.

Zeal: Hmm... I see.

It was the middle of the night. Following Belthasar's banishment, The Prophet felt a signifigant ripple in chronal energies. He couldn't be sure, but it was likely the frog's comrades had arrived in Zeal. He had just warned the Queen of their coming as they walked together through the halls of the palace.

Zeal: I'll have Dalton ready the defences and keep an eye out for them.

Slowly, she stopped at a small door.

Zeal: Join me for a drink, Prophet?

The Prophet turned his attention to a sign on the floor. It was the Blue Room. Set up some fifty years ago, the Blue Room was a private bar exclusively serving first-class citizens. A very hard place to get into, but as the Queen literally owned it, she could bring in anyone she wanted.

The Prophet: I uh... I'm not sure if I should.

Zeal: C'mon. I don't believe I've ever seen you have a drink.

The Prophet: No, I haven't had one in a long time.

Zeal: Then what are we waiting for?

Grabbing his arm, the Queen pulled him past the blue curtain over the doorway.

He'd never actually been in the Blue Room before, only having heard about it, but upon entering he grimaced. There was a painfully strong smell of incense coming up from the blue carpetted floor. The walls were a very bizzare black. It was so pure and unbroken in that color, it gave one the impression that there were no walls at all, but instead there was an endless abyss around the floors. Perhaps even stranger, wisps of thin white smoke were scatterring through the air, coming from some unseen source.

It was mostly empty being so late at night, but he could spot a two judges laughing stupidly over shots at a booth. As Zeal lead him toward the bar, which appeared to be cut from blue marble, they took seats just a few stools away from the Nu. The creature seemed rather depressed, probably due to Belthasar's banishment only hours before and was downing one Bloody Maria after another, leading to a large number of orange-stained empty glasses littered around him.

As they sat on the silver-and-blue stools, Zeal turned to him happily.

Zeal: What do you think?

The Prophet: (Looking around) Where's that smoke coming from?

Zeal: Oh, don't worry about that. Harold!

A balding, baby-faced barkeep walked over, bowing slightly in his stance.

Harold: Y-yes, highness?

Zeal: Bloody Mary, and keep them coming.

The Prophet: In-and-out martini.

Harold reached down, placing a Bloody Mary in front of the Queen before setting to work on The Prophet's martini. She downed it in a single gulp. The Prophet, however slumped over the bar as his drink was being mixed.

Zeal: Something bothering you?

The Prophet: Schala's mad because we threw out the Gurus.

Zeal: Oh, she's just miffed. She'll come around.

The Prophet: I hope you're right.

Harold: Here's your cocktail.

Only giving the tiniest nod of thanks, The Prophet gracefully lifted the glass and lightly sipped it. Harold handed the Queen another Bloody Mary as the Nu called out from the other end of the bar.

Nu: (Hazily) Anotha.

As the barkeep handed the Nu another Bloody Maria, the oracle stared.

The Prophet: I guess Schala's not the only one hurt by tonights events.

Zeal: Don't tell me you're worried about that thing.

The Prophet: (shrugs) Not really.

Zeal: I don't even know why I started letting it in here. I guess because Belthasar begged me.

The Prophet: Gonna throw it out?

Zeal: (shrugs) Eh.

Once again, Zeal drained her glass with a single gulp.

Zeal: Harold! Keep them coming!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

In the Eastern section of the snowfields on the Earthbound continents, the trio of time travelers arrived at the Skyway after making their way through the snow. Unfortunatly, they quickly discovered the door refused to open.

Marle: Awww. I'm freezing here! There's no way we can be locked out like this!

Crono looked underneath his boot. Half-buried in the snow is a white sign, apparently blown off the door in the bizzard. Digging it out, he held it up to the others.

Robo: "Skyway open Sunrise to sunset."

Marle: We gotta wait for morning? We'll freeze to death!

Robo: I suppose we could always retreat back to the cave.

Marle: Aw, man...

The blonde princess slumped her shoulders as Crono led the way back toward the cave.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The events of what had been occurring in the bar was leaving The Prophet astounded.

He had seen his mother down cocktails quickly and easily while they were at lunch together. But that was always just drink taken with food. It never occurred to him she might have a problem like Dalton, who was never seen without his flask. As the night wore on, she demanded more and more drinks; long after Harold expressed his concerns that he wanted to go to bed. The two judges had staggered away and the Nu succumbed to his booze and perpetual wearyness, now leaving him snoring drunkenly on the blue carpet.

The oracle had been slowly nursing his martinis, but Zeal continued to empty glasses, until she had surely consumed enough Marys to fill an English library. While it seemed his mother was much better at holding her liquor then Dalton, espicially considering how much she had taken, by one in the morning she was quite tipsy. Perhaps, thought the Prophet, she once had a problem like Dalton, but had it mostly under control; only drinking late and having a much greater tolerance.

Finally, as her royal highness finished constructing a small pyramid of orange-stained glasses, The Prophet voiced concerns.

The Prophet: I think that's enough for one night.

Zeal: What? Oh, I... I guess. Let's get moving.

Still somewhat tipsy, Zeal slowly rises from her stool. When The Prophet does likewise, she takes his arm, leaning on him ever-so-slightly as he leads her out into the hall.

Zeal: What were you saying?

The Prophet: I just don't what Schala to hate me.

Her cheeks still very red, Zeal waved a hand dismissingly.

Zeal: Ah, Schala. Don't you worry about her. She doesn't have it in her to hate anyone. She's too sweet.

The Prophet: She yelled at me.

Feeling his companion shaking slightly, the oracle turned to see her chuckling under her breath.

The Prophet: What?

Zeal: You sound just like Leoric. Schala was five and he promised he'd take her to the zoo. Then he couldn't make it and she got mad at him. Tore him up for a while.

They walked on for a moment, continuing toward the royal chambers in silence.

Zeal: You seem to really like Schala.

The Prophet: Of course I do, she's a sweet girl.

Zeal: Be carefull. You're public figures. People may get the wrong idea.

The Prophet: She's only fourteen. She's more like a sister to me.

Zeal: I know that. You have a very nice effect on her. Tell me, how are you getting along with little Janus?

As they arrived at the doors to the Queen's bedchambers, The Prophet paused, comtemplating the question.

The Prophet: Schala's told me alot about him, but I uh... haven't met him yet.

Zeal: You should. He's a clever boy, and I think it'd do him alot of good to know you.

As they crossed into the room, the Queen let go of the Prophet's arm. She slipped off her heels, and made her way to the bed.

The Prophet: What do you mean?

Zeal: (sigh) He's getting older now.

The Prophet: You said before. What's the problem?

Zeal: Have you noticed that as children get older, they get more agressive?

She pulled a pin out of her hair, letting it down her back before she flopped onto the bed.

The Prophet: I uh... haven't had much experience with children.

Zeal: Heh. When you say that, you make it sound like you never _were _a child.

The Prophet: Not for very long.

Zeal laughed.

Zeal: Anyway, as Janus gets older, more kids are going to start picking on him. His whole bookworm thing is bad enough, but without magic he's a walking target. That's why I don't want him being king if he can't do magic.

The Prophet: I heard about that. You're worried the people won't respect him?

Zeal: Yes. They'd be insulted. It could lead to a coop if anyone thought they could manage it. And there's alot of delusional people in this country. The only thing that might counter that would be charisma, which is why I think you should meet him.

The Prophet: How would I give him charisma?

Zeal: (smugly) Well, a boy's best friend may be his mother, but that can only take him so far.

Sighing, she stretched out.

Zeal: Little girls look up to women. Little boys look up to men. I think that one reason Janus is so quiet and withdrawn is because he only spends time with Schala and me. He doesn't exactly have any major male role model. You know, someone to learn from. To look up to.

The Prophet: What about the gurus?

Zeal: Phft. Those old men? They're too bookish. He needs someone bold to look after him.

Smirking, she sat up and gazed at the Prophet from her position on the bed.

Zeal: You know. Someone who can help him be a man.

While his face was totally calm, the gears inside The Prophet's head were working overtime to find a gracefull way out of this. His mother was inviting him to have sex; the awkwardness of the situation couldn't be surpassed.

The Prophet: So you... uh... you think he might have grown up differently if Leoric was alive?

Then, to The Prophet's great surprise, Zeal frowned. She seemed... embittered at the mention of her husband's name.

Zeal: No. I think Janus would be the same if Leoric was alive.

The Prophet: Schala seemed to think-

Zeal scoffed softly.

Zeal: Schala... I love her, but she doesn't know the stuff about Leoric I knew.

The Prophet: ... Was he a bad husband?

Zeal: He wasn't any kind of husband. He was a weak ruler and a bad father.

The Prophet: A bad father?

The Queen laughed again, clearly still tipsy.

Zeal: He was... Eheheh... By the time Janus came, he'd changed. I think it's better Schala not knowing.

She slowly changed her position on the bed, looking at her visitor alluringly.

Zeal: But forget about him. He doesn't deserve our attention. Come here for a moment.

Watching his mother flutter her eyelashes at him, The Prophet slowly obeyed, treading over the marble floor to the bed.

Zeal: Prophet, I'll be honest; I lost the magic with Leoric when Schala was little. I haven't felt this way about a man in eleven years.

The Prophet: Yes, well you see the thing is...

Snapping his fingers, The Prophet casts a subtle spell on the Queen's tired, intoxicated mind. Losing her balance, she falls on her back, deeply asleep.

The Prophet: Thank god.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The sun rose brightly over Enhasa the next morning, shining in a grand, beautiful gold. All signs of the previous day's thunderstorm had vanished. Even the moisture in the air had gone back to the standard amount all over the country. As per the usual, the citizens of the city were barely stirring, dispite the fact that the hour of the morning was growing still later. They remained sleeping either in their own chambers or in the beds scattered about the halls.

Janus was seated on the edge of an empty bed in an upper corner of the city's bright halls. Shining down from a high window onto him was the golden sunlight from outside. The prince ran his hand over the bed's sheets, feeling their un-natural softness, deep in thought.

Maybe it was time he stopped doing this. He first thought it would be good to get out and walk around the cities, but he wasn't really accomplishing much. He felt vunerable whenever he went out; as though everyone was staring directly at him. The whole incident in the garden didn't help him feel any better.

Nu: Ahem.

Looking up, he was greeted by the sight of the Nu, looking distinctly crestfallen. The creature was holding an icepack on the upper part of its face, its eyes noticably bloodshot.

Nu: Your sister's looking for you.

As soon as these words were uttered to the Prince, the Nu plodded off, slow and unbalanced. Not about to keep Schala waiting, Janus slid off the bed, and moved toward the stairs to go back to the castle. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught a strange sight. There were three bizzarly-dressed people walking through the lower halls of the city. Although he couldn't help but stare, he kept walking toward the gates.

It started rather slow; almost dream like. Janus started moving downward from the top of the stairs, Alfador at his ankles, just as the newcomers started to go upward from the bottom. One of them, apparently wearing oddly-designed golden armor, was rather wide so Janus moved to the side to let him pass.

Robo: Thank you.

They passed each other and continued on their way. The next in the line was a blonde girl who smiled happily at him and Alfador has they passed. Slowly he drew level with the last newcomer- a boy with bright red hair. Without warning, his shoulder brushed against the stranger's elbow.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_"NO! Don't do it, lad!"_

_"CRONO!"_

_SCREEEE!_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A considerable pain went through Janus's body as he fell forward down the few remaing steps. He heard some high-pitched laughter to his left. Looking up he saw a passing girl, much younger then himself, giggling at him as she held hands with her mother. The woman didn't seem to be bothering to tell her off. As Janus continued looking at her, he began to get the idea that she might be stifling laughter herself.

Marle: Hey, are you alright?

Turning behind him, he saw the blonde girl looking at him from the top of the stairs. The red-haired one wordlessly stepped down the stairs, knelt down, and kindly offerred his hand to help him. But Janus backed away, getting up on his own.

Janus: Y-You're going to die soon.

Before anything else could be said, he ran off toward the gates of the city. The blonde cocked her head, looking puzzled.

Marle: Huh. What a funny kid.

Crono's gaze pensively lingered on the gates as the boy passed through them but, as ever, he said nothing.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Ice-pack still held securely under its little tuft of green hair, the Nu bitterly trudged through the city. The noise of the surrounding snores of the sleeping citizens was still quite painfull to him, but it wasn't nearly as loud as it was in Kajar. The City of Intellect had once again erupted into celebration over the completion of the true Mammoth Machine. This, combined with Belthasar's banishment and his pounding hangover left him in a very bad mood indeed.

He caught two gossipping maids making a bed as he passed.

Maid 1: Did you hear about Belthasar?

Maid 2: I know. Sabotaging the Mammoth Machine... The position of Guru just doesn't seem safe at all anymore, does it?

In the blink of an eye, the Nu had turned and broken one of the maid's jaw with a punch from his flabby but powerfull arms. By the time she hit the floor, he was continuing forward, his mood now even angrier.

He was the Nu. The timeless one. He had seen countless members of the human race pass before him (not to mention all the other species that had thrived and died in the faintest of instants to his eyes). Being as he was, there was never a single occation in which he found himself attached to humans, or anything else for that matter. Early man had learned quickly not to try and harvest his meat like they did with the other beasts in the hunting grounds. Not when he could strike them to their knees with a single tap of his forehead. They stayed clear and he was able to keep to himself. As centuries passed and mankind became more inwardly focused and engulfed in their culture and religion, they had lost any interest in him whatsoever. When he came to the Zeal continent, finding it more comfortable in climate and atmosphere then on Terra, he doubted they even noticed his arrival.

But Belthasar was different. Belthasar was captivated by him. Every story the Nu had to offer, Belthasar wanted to record. That alone gave them plenty of time to spend together. Even the most humdrum information like the achievements of the long dead lizard society seemed to excite him. He placed into his research so much of the facts Nu quoted to him. Almost everyone around him, even his fellow Gurus, found his obsession pointless if not disturbing, but Belthasar kept at it all the same.

He opened the flame book on a table, and quickly retreated behind the sliding bookshelf. Once inside the secret sanctuary built for the Guru of Reason, he crouched onto the floor to silently brood.

Belthasar was the only human he really grew to care about. Now he was gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A balcony overlooking the main courtyard of the palace was bathed in golden sunlight, starkly contrasting the appearance of the figure standing at its edge. The Prophet, leaning on the railing with his shoulders round, their blades cutting angularly into his cloak, looked very out of place with his dark colors and shadowy appearance. The sunlight was not even able to peirce the very thin sheet of hood going down to his nose. He looked down upon the Sacred Lotus flowers, seemingly brooding.

Zeal: Good morning, Prophet!

The queen walked through the glass doors through the main conservatory, smiling at her cloaked advisor. He seemed not to hear her though, and remained bitterly looking down with his elbows on the railing.

Zeal: Prophet!

The oracle spun his head around, surprised.

The Prophet: Milady! I'm so sorry.

Zeal: Don't worry about it, Prophet.

Zeal stepped toward the railing, leaning over it with him. She pondered for a minute, then broke a short silence.

Zeal: Prophet... Did any thing happen last night?

The Prophet: Happen?

Zeal: You know. Did anything... happen?

The Prophet let out a cough, but for the most part hid the awkwardness of the situation.

The Prophet: No, Milady. You were a little tipsy, but I got you to your room safely so...

Zeal: Good. Good.

They stood silently on the railing for a moment, saying nothing.

Zeal: Not that I think you're unattractive or anything.

The Prophet: I... I know.

Zeal: It's just that for people in our position...

The Prophet: Yeah. Yeah, I know...

A gentle breeze below swayed the Sacred Lotus flowers gently.

Zeal: Because there's alot of gossip in this country.

The Prophet: Oh, most certainly.

Little flickers of cerulean went between the Sacred Lotus; bright blue humming birds were flitting to each one.

Zeal: Uh... I'm going to hold a meeting today to look over possible applicants for the new Guru positions.

The Prophet: Sounds great.

Zeal: You may want to show up late.

The Prophet: Yes.

Zeal: If you get it.

The Prophet: Yes, that would be a good idea.

There was a tapping on the floor as The Prophet shuffled his feet.

The Prophet: I should go.

Zeal: Yes. See you at the meeting.

The Prophet briskly turned and headed out the glass doors. Still looking at the garden, the Queen sighs.

Zeal: Nothing happened, but it still got weird.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Janus was silently walking toward the halls leading before the bedrooms of the royal siblings. He was musing about what Schala might be calling about, staring at his feet. Alfador, ever loyal, trotted along behind him. Not looking forward, it wasn't long before he bumped into somebody and fall backward onto the floor.

Schala: Janus! Are you okay?

Janus: Hi, Ne-chan. Don't worry, I'm fine.

The princess grasped him by the arm and pulled him slowly to his feet, brushing some dust off his shoulder.

Janus: Someone said you were looking for me.

Schala: Yes, uh... Let's talk in here, okay?

Janus turned a saw they were right outside the two bedrooms. Schala opened the door and lead him inside by the hand, closing it softly behind her. As Janus walked up the stairs to his bed, Schala stood at the door for a minute, looking hard at the knob.

Janus: Ne-chan, what's wrong?

Schala: Janus, have you been bullied?

There was a pause as the prince hesitated to answer.

Janus: ... No.

Schala: (warningly) Janus...

Janus: Well, I... it only happened once.

Schala sighed and walked up the steps, spotting her brother sitting on the end of his bed, looking a little dejected. He seemed determined to look at Alfador, who was curled up in his lap.

Schala: So it's true?

He nodded, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. The mattress pressed down to his left, telling him Schala was sitting down right beside him.

Schala: What happened, Janus?

Janus: Alfador... I... I was...

Screwing up his face, Janus turned and hugged his sister tightly around the torso and buried his head in her stomach, sobbing loudly. Schala wrapped her arms around his shoulders caringly. She picked him up slightly, shifting him into her lap.

Schala: It's okay, Janus. You can take your time on this. Just try to tell me.

Sniffling and hiccupping, Janus looked tearfully at his sister's face.

Janus: I... I found a bunch of kids picking on Alfador, a-an' I told them to stop, an'...

Schala: How old were they?

Janus: Mah-my age. They were throwing magic and her, an' then they saw me an' they wanted to know if I really couldn't do any magic...

Schala: What did you tell them?

Janus: I didn't say anything... Then one of them burnt my cheek with some li-lightning, and they all just...

The prince broke off. Schala affectionately tightened her grip on her shoulders and he continued, sobbing much less.

Janus: They all looked at me like they were expecting magic out of me but... But I couldn't do any, so I just ran.

Schala: You ran?

Janus: I ran, and I could hear them laughing.

Schala patted his back, thinking about how to handle this.

Schala: Janus... I don't want you to think that everyone is like this. There are some people that just judge others by their abilities, or their looks, or their hobbies...

Janus: (dejected) Or their magic.

He was looking the floor now, still seated in his sister's lap.

Janus: Ne-chan, what do you think I should do?

Schala was still thinking about what she could tell him. Coming up with nothing, she brought her sleeve to his cheeks and began soaking up the tears on his face.

Schala: I-I don't know, Janus. I wish I knew what to tell you. (sighs) Father'd say that you can only stand up to those who challenge you...

Janus: They've got magic. What can I do?

Schala: Yes... and I really don't want any kind of violence here. That would just attract mother's attention and I'd hate to think what she'd do if she heard about this... I suppose I might be able to find them. Talk to them...

Janus: I dunno how much that would do in the end.

Schala: (blinks) What?

Janus: I... I hear the servants talking when they think I'm out of an earshot. There are rumors about this whole thing... Some are really inaccurate but... If you did something everyone would know about that too...

Schala: I see...

Schala's thoughts came to the Prophet. He was so wise, moreso then any other member of the council. When she kept drawing blanks as to how to solve this problem, she thought of him. But after he agreed to send Belthasar off, did she really want his help anymore?

While her mind could think of no solution, she could think of some small bit of comfort. Still keeping her little brother in her lap, she slid a hand into her robe's outer pocket and pulled out a little chain.

Janus: What's what Ne-chan?

Schala: (Smiling) Well, it's a... Janus?

The prince had just turned his head sideways. He'd thought he had heard the door open. At his sister's voice however, he returned his attention to her.

Schala: Father left it to me. It was made for him specially by Melchoir. I want you to have it.

She held out the chain in the air, making a triangle using her two hands and the force of gravity. At the very bottom, swaying right in front of Janus's face was a tiny amulet. It was silver with a tiny bit of red in the center, cut in the shape of a star. Raising a hand, the prince ran a finger over its cool metallic surface. It felt like a pleasurable ice against his fingertip.

Janus: It looks a little like your pendent, only small.

Schala: It is like my pendent. It has a little bit of Dreamstone in the center that protects against small magic spells.

Janus: (excited) So those kid's magic won't hurt me?

Schala: Janus- I'm not giving this to you so you can pick fights, understand?

The younger boy nodded.

Schala: I'm giving you this for protection. I want you to be safe.

She lowered the chain over his head, and actually giggled. The necklace was far too large for him; the chain could've barely fit around his shoulders and if hhe stood up the amulet would reach down to his waist. Janus smiled himself. The chain was very cool and relaxing on his skin, soothing in its way.

Schala: So no matter what happens, this amulet will protect you. Understand?

Janus nodded, smiling brightly now. Schala kissed him on the forehead.

Schala: I knew you'd get it.

They hugged, when a servant appeared at the top of the stairs.

Ms. Linten: Highness?

The siblings look up at the woman upon the stairs.

Ms. Linten: You've been summoned. The Queen is holding a council meeting.

Schala: What? There wasn't any news about this.

Janus: It's okay, Ne-chan. I understand.

Ms. Linten: Highness, we need to hurry.

Schala: Alright.

The princess shifted her brother onto the bed and walked toward Ms. Linten.

Schala: I'll be back later, okay?

Janus: Okay.

Following her mother's assistant down the stairs, she was greeted by a curious sight at their foot. The same strange-looking outlanders Janus encountered in Enhasa were standing idlely by, looking at her intently. She paused as she came in front of them.

Schala: Oh... and who are you?

Ms. Linten: Highness, please. If you're late, I'll be punished.

Schala: C-coming!

Her gaze lingered on the strangers for a moment, but she was soon walking down the hallway toward the throne room, the memory of them pushed from her mind. She was more curious about holding two council meetings in just as many days. She supposed that the completion of the Mammoth Machine meant a greater amount of work from the entire kingdom, and that it would include the high council as well.

Upon arriving at the door to the council room, she rose her pendent and channelled her power through it. The heavy blue door lifted free, granting her easy entry to the council's chamber. Everyone was in their usual place; her mother on the throne, The Prophet standing just beside her, Dalton standing three steps down from the thone. Schala moved curtly toward her smaller throne beside her mother's.

Zeal: Hello, Schala. Thank you for coming.

The Prophet: Afternoon, Schala.

She didn't answer them, instead sitting on her throne in a rather cold manner. While her mother took no notice of this, the hood of the oracle's cloak drooped even more limply, as though the fabric itself felt dejected. High upon her throne, the queen smiled.

Zeal: Now, I suppose you all know why we're here?

Dalton: Not really.

Schala: I just got the summons.

Zeal: Well, it's about time we found another trio of Gurus, and I thought we needed to find someone who fit in. Prophet, you have the needed paperwork, do you not?

The oracle smiled, and reached under his cloak. When his gloved hand came back into view, it was holding a white binder thicker then a large dictionary. The Queen gaped at it.

Zeal: Those... are the applicants?

The Prophet: Just for the Guru of Time. Although I doubt we could find anyone as skilled as Gaspar, even within all these applicants.

Dalton: I'm not reading all that! That would take days.

Schala: You can't just blow this off. We need to fill the position of Guru.

Zeal: (Stroking chin, thoughtfully) Maybe...

But what the Queen was considering doing with the applicants was suddenly cut off. The was a rumble as the door opened once more, allowing a trio of strangers to step inside the council room.

The Prophet glared from behind his cowl. He knew it had to be them he felt arrive. The Frog wasn't with them, but there was no mistaking that boy's bizarre hair. That blonde was there too.

Her highness looked angrily at these visitors, scanning them one by one.

Zeal: Who are you? How'd you open this chamber's locking system?

Robo: We've come to talk to you about your choice to awaken La-

The Prophet: Milady, those are the intruders I warned you of.

Zeal: (angrily at the newcomers) Oh-ho! So you're the ones who mean to bring ruin to the Zeal Kingdom!

Marle: Uh...

Dalton stepped forward, leaping at the chance to gain some favor with the Queen.

Dalton: Highness, let me handle these horrid little savages.

Zeal: Please do. Schala, take us out.

Gripping her pendent, Schala chanted a small spell, teleporting the council away as the whooshing Golem portal opened just before the trio.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Zeal: Heh. What primitive magic-users.

Within moments, the beast had subdued the outsiders, the aristocratic quartet reappeared. Zeal walked in a circle around the new comers, sizing them up.

Zeal: They hardly tried adapting to that Golem you summoned, Dalton.

Dalton: (smugly) Of course not, Milady. My Golems are the best there are.

Schala: Umm... Perhaps someone already explained this, but who are these people?

The Prophet: Outsiders, attempting to bring down the fall of Zeal.

Schala: For what purpose?

The Prophet: Well-

Zeal: They certainly are strange looking, aren't they?

Stopping in front of Crono, the queen nudged him with her foot. But the mute's head cocked up on the ground, and he swiftly wrapped a hand around her ankle. Zeal gave out a cry of surprise.

Zeal: Ah! You dirty little savage!

Within the next instant, the Prophet appeared at his lady's side, kicking the already-injured boy in the jaw. The queen sighed with relief.

Zeal: Oh, thank you, Prophet. Somebody call security about this. Have this little trio of lunatics put into a cell until we can discern what their plans are.

As the usual faceless guards marched into the room to pick up the fallen bodies, the Zeal grabbed the Prophet's arm to lead him away towards the door.

Zeal: (to the room at large) Meeting adjurned, everyone. (To the Prophet) Now, I'd like-

Schala: Ba... but mother!

Zeal: (looking over shoulder) Dearie? Something the matter?

Schala: Aren't you forgetting something?

Zeal: (pauses, thinking) ... Oh, if you're worried about these strangers escaping, it's alright, dear. The holding cells in the palace are all impenetrable.

Schala: No, we still haven't appointed any new Gurus.

Zeal: Oh. Well...

The Queen glanced at the folder of applicants, fallen on the floor with half its contents spilled out.

Zeal: It would be so much work to appoint new Gurus. And I doubt we have anyone in that file with the old flare of those traitors.

Schala: But...

Zeal: Besides, Once the Mammoth Machine is directly connected to Lavos in the Ocean Palace, we'll hardly need the Gurus anymore. Zeal will have a new order.

Schala turned to the Prophet, as though asking for help, but the Oracle seemed to avoided her eye. The Queen meanwhile, stroked her chin smiling in a sinister sort of way.

Zeal: In fact, in the wake of this un-provoked attack on the country, I don't see why we can't step up the whole production. Tell everyone that we'll fully activate the Mammoth Machine... Tomarrow.

Dalton: T-tomarrow?

Schala: But mother, the Ocean Palace isn't finished yet!

Zeal: Well what're all those little tech hands doing down there? Tell them to get off their asses and work for god's sake! (to the Prophet) You think I'm right to move up the show, don't you?

The Prophet: (Smirk) The sooner we get to Lavos the better.

Dalton: But we don't even have the staff for that sort of thing.

Zeal: Well, use some members of your personal guard.

Dalton: Wha... _my _personal guard?

Zeal: They're securing the Ocean Palace anyway. Have them pick up a wrench.

Zeal walked off, arm-and-arm with the Prophet.

Zeal: Now I'd like to apologize for last night.

The Prophet: Oh, uh... that's quite alright.

Zeal: No, no, it's not alright. I don't know what happened but...

The pair walked into the sun-lit hallways, leaving Schala and Dalton stupified in their wake.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Janus: Ne-chan, are we supposed to be here?

Schala: I just need to see something.

The two entered the holding cells. People rarely ventured into these poorly-lit rooms, as there was very little crime in Zeal. At least very little crime that was performed out in the open and prosecuted against. But there were three new additions to these chambers. Floating in mid-air in a yellow hue were the new comers. Schala halted before their levitating figures, holding Janus by the hand.

Janus: Wow. Did they really attack you at the council meeting?

Schala: (softly) Maybe...

Slowly, Marle's eyes opened and came into focus. After a brief moment of surveying her surroundings, she screamed, arms and legs flailing in mid-air. Janus, startled, edged closer to his sister.

Marle: AH! Crono! Crono, wake up! Wake uuup!

Snapping awake, the red-head glanced quickly around the room. He soon spotted the siblings before him, eyeing them warily. Marle, meanwhile, was reaching toward Crono in an attempt to hug him for security, but could only manage to graze his clothes with her fingertips. The pair were hovering too far away.

Marle: Crono, where are we? I can't find my bow.

Janus: (Piping up from behind Schala) W-why'd you attack my sister?

Marle: (Stops trying to hug Crono, pouting) We didn't do anything. We came to warn you and you sicced rock-face on us.

Schala: (Blinks) Warn us?

Crono nodded solumnly. Raising one foot, he managed to tap Robo a few times until the droid awoke.

Robo: Sy-Sy-Sy-Systems online... Scanning location...

Marle: Nevermind that, Robo. Crono wants you to tell them about Lavos.

Schala: We know all about Lavos. It's a lifeform from another world that landed here millions of years ago.

Robo: But why is your nation attempting to tap into it as a power source?

Janus: Mama says Lavos is the future.

Marle: (under breath) He is if things keep going the way they are...

Robo: You don't understand- Lavos is still alive.

Schala: How could it still be alive? Even it survived the impact of arriving here it would have to be several mellennia old by now.

Marle: Yeah, but believe me, it's still alive. And it won't want to be woken up.

Robo: This creature, if it is allowed to continue its existence, will destroy mankind. We have come to intercept it before it is given such a chance.

The Prophet: I wish you'd told me that sooner.

Everyone's eyes turned toward the doorway, where the cowled oracle stood. He seemed to be ignoring the royal siblings, his hidden eyes on Crono and his team. As he stepped forward toward the cells, Janus "eeped" and ducked behind Schala's waist.

The Prophet: If you had, I would've intercepted you. Ah, well. You can't stop this now, anyway. Too many wheels turning.

Schala: Prophet, you have to listen to these people. They don't want the end of Zeal. They claim Lavos is some inhuman monster.

The Prophet moved past the princess, still surveying the captives.

The Prophet: It's not safe keeping you in prison. Where'd you enter this time period from?

Schala: (blinks) Time period?

Marle: How do you...

Robo: There's a gate in an cave on the continent below.

The Prophet: (Pressing button to unlock cell) Take me there.

The trio fell to the floor. Hard. Looking up, Crono moved to unsheath his sword. However just as an inch of the shining blade was taken from its leather holder the red-haired warrior felt the sensation of cold metal on his skin. The Prophet was holding a long jagged scythe to his jugular.

The Prophet: Get up. We're going.

Marle: Crono, don't...

Glaring, Crono rose to his feet. Schala watched as he and The Prophet surveyed each other broodingly for several minutes. Crono's eye ran along the scythe, then up to his attacker. Briefly the princess saw what she sure was a look of recognition on his face.

He motioned for Robo and Marle to move toward the door ahead of him. As his friends aheaded forward, his gaze fell on Janus, who looked back frightened. Schala moved a hand onto his shoulder show she was protecting him and Crono turned away. He followed his friends toward the door, The Prophet and his scythe just behind him.

The Prophet: (Eyes on trio) Schala, bring Janus to his room and meet us at the Skyway.

Schala: What? Why?

The Prophet: I'll need your help with this.

Left standing stupidly with Janus in the now-empty room, Schala thought it best to comply.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The cold biting into them, the group stepped out into the snow. As they entered the cave, The Prophet surveyed the time gate that hovered, glistening, off the floor.

The Prophet: I see. This is a much more stable example then what I've experienced. But how do you... harness such a thing?

Reaching within his tunic, Crono withdrew a shiny wand which he waved at the Gate. It expanded, bringing an unearthly white and blue glow into the room.

Schala: (Amazed, moving closer to examine it) Wow... wha... what is...

The Prophet: (Holds out arm to stop her) NO! Trust me, you don't want to do that, Schala.

Marle: You have to listen to us! Lavos is evil! It'll-

The Prophet prodded her with his scythe, nudging her toward the gate. Crono put his hand back onto his sword's hilt, but Robo leaned toward him, arm on his shoulder.

Robo: Don't, Crono. Wounds insufficently healed from Golem battle.

Crono bowed his head as Marle leapt into the Gate. Robo followed quickly after.

The Prophet: Well, go on then.

Crono eyed him.

The Prophet: This isn't anything personal, not like with the tadpole. You're just a little X-Factor in my plans.

Sighing, Crono leapt into the gate. After he was gone, it receeded once more to its dormant state.

Schala: (warily) You knew those people didn't you?

The Prophet: Yes.

Schala: So what do you say about their thoughts to Lavos?

The Prophet: It's of no great importance.

Schala: But-

The Prophet: Highness, I need you to place a block around this gate.

Schala: What?

The Prophet: Nothing major, just something that allows it to maintain stability and not be opened again.

Though unsure, Schala rose her arms and chanted slightly under her breath. Within moments a lavender pyramid appeared in a flash around the gate.

The Prophet: Now things can follow through uninterrupted.

Looking kind, The Prophet turned to Schala.

The Prophet: We better go back up before-

Schala: I'll catch up.

For a moment, the oracle looked like he wanted to argue, but paused. He surveyed her, still looking at the gate, undecided.

The Prophet: A-alright. But try to hurry.

Turning on his heel, the Prophet made his exit. Schala fell to her knees, considering the Prophet, the visitors, the gurus, and Lavos...

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Yeah. So... Sorry.

Like I said, I got no excuse. I remember sitting down to proof-read this chapter in November. But... Things just came up. I starting getting into EVA, and I think I started caring more about my DeviantArt page then my page... Lost my focus... But that's not right.

I'm damn proud of alot of the fanfictions I write, and I'm happy when I get review alerts. But I can't expect any alerts if I'm not really writing anything. I've got story ideas that would fly better on here then they would on Deviantart, I think. So yeah... YEAH!

"Chronicles" is my brainchild and it deserves to be finished in style. _I _don't deserve any readers or reviews after my neglect of this page, but I should at least finish this story right. There's only one chapter left, anyway.

I considered typing up another chapter featuring flashing back to King Leoric and how he died, but that sounded too self-indulgent and more trouble then it was worth. I can just as easily explain everything through Queen Zeal. Not that I wanna be rushing this though. I wanna put an end to it fairly.

Oh, the Blue Room's description was partly based on the night clubs seen in some Chappelle's Show skits (espicially the Rick James episode). Just with more blue.

Once again, I'm sorry. I'm probably gonna load up the game again and play through the Zeal part to get a fair idea of the Ocean Palace, but, then buckle down and try to work out the fic. I'd give an estimated release date but... yeah, we all saw how good I am at keeping up with _those_... Better I not make any promises unless I know I can keep them.

If you think I still deserve your reviews, I'd welcome them, even if they contain big notices on how lazy I am. Let it never be said I had work ethic. All the same, I'll be hoping to hear your thoughts.

I'd love to hear from you...


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